"So, Frederic, I say again that you must not think of leaving Paris now."

This argument was no longer necessary. The count left the house to call upon his old friend, to whom he had something to say privately; and Frederic, long after his father's departure, was completely crushed by what he had learned. Poor Sister Anne! your image had vanished.

Pale and excited, hardly able to breathe, Frederic paced the floor of his apartment, now throwing himself into a chair for a moment, then springing abruptly to his feet, sighing, and clenching his fists convulsively. It was in that frame of mind that Dubourg found him when he came to bid him good-bye, for Frederic had told him of his projected journey.

"What in G.o.d's name is the matter, Frederic?" he said, pausing in the doorway, alarmed to see him in that condition. "Come, won't you speak, instead of rushing about like this and banging the furniture?"

"Who would have believed it? who would have thought it?" said Frederic, dropping into a chair. "Ah! these women!"

"Oho! so it's a question of women, is it? I begin to feel less alarmed."

"With such an honest face, such lovely eyes, to conceal such perfidy!

for it is perfidy! she ought to have told me that she loved another. To welcome me so cordially! to seem so pleased to see me! Oh! it's horrible!"

"There's no doubt of that. Whom are you talking about?"

"Mademoiselle de Valmont--Constance. She is so lovely! so sweet!"

"Oh, yes! and she looks so much like Sister Anne!"

"Would you believe, my friend, that she is going to be married--to a young colonel whom I don't know, but whom she loves--that goes without saying; whom I have never seen, and who is coming to Paris very soon to marry her?"

"Mademoiselle de Valmont is going to be married?"

"Yes, Dubourg."

"Well, what difference does that make to you? you don't love her; you're not in love with her; no word of love has ever pa.s.sed your lips; you are her brother, her friend, nothing more. You told me this yourself, within a month."

"No, I certainly do not love her; but one owes some regard, some mark of confidence, to a friend; and when you see a person every day----"

"Oho! you see her every day, do you?"

"She might have told me, have let fall a hint. Ah! I never would have believed it, Constance!"

"By the way, have you given up going to Dauphine? I say--Frederic!

Frederic!"

But he was already far away, running like a madman to Mademoiselle de Valmont; and Dubourg left the house, saying to himself:

"He's a good one to accuse women of perfidy! Ah! these men!--I must go and dine. I don't know how it has happened, but I am already in debt at my restaurant, and the month has only half gone!"

When Frederic reached the general's house, he had formed no plan of action, and had no idea what he was going to say or do. He entered the house, where his was a familiar presence, and walked rapidly through several rooms to the salon where Constance usually sat. She was there, seated at her piano. Seeing that she was intent upon her music and as placid as ever, Frederic stood for a moment, gazing at her.

Constance turned her head when she heard footsteps. She smiled when she recognized her visitor, whose excitement she did not notice at once.

"Is it you, monsieur," she said; "I am glad you have come; you are a good musician and can help me decipher this piece."

The young man did not reply, but continued to gaze at Constance, who, being accustomed to his peculiar and often taciturn humor, did not at first observe that anything was wrong; but, finding that he did not approach, she turned again, and then his evident excitement did not escape her notice.

"What is the matter, monsieur?" she asked, with manifest concern; "you seem excited."

"Oh! nothing's the matter, mademoiselle; what could be the matter?"

"I am sure I don't know; you are not in the habit of telling me your troubles."

There was a faint tinge of reproach in the tone in which Constance made this remark. Frederic sat down beside her, and seemed to try to read in her eyes; never before had he looked at her with such an expression, and Constance, in her surprise, felt that she was blushing, and averted her lovely eyes.

"You are afraid that I shall guess what is taking place in your heart,"

said Frederic, affecting an ironical tone to dissemble his suffering.

"I, monsieur! on my word, I don't know what you mean; I don't understand you. Why should I fear to allow my thoughts to be read? I am conscious of no guilt; and if it were otherwise, you are not the one to reprove me."

"Oh! certainly not! you are entirely free as to your feelings, mademoiselle; I know that I have no claim to your heart."

"Mon Dieu! what is the matter, Monsieur Frederic? really, you alarm me; your agitation is not natural."

"What is the matter! Ah! Constance, you love another, and you ask me that question!"

Mademoiselle de Valmont was speechless with surprise; Frederic had never called her by that name before, and are not the words: "You love another" equivalent to: "You should love no one but me"? A wave of blissful emotion surged in Constance's heart, which beat faster and with greater force; joy and happiness shone in her eyes, and her voice was softer than ever, as she said:

"I, love another! Mon Dieu! what does he mean? Explain yourself, Frederic: I don't understand."

The dear girl had understood but one thing, and that was that Frederic did not want her to love another; and that was enough to make her understand that he loved her. For a long time, she had hoped that she had inspired the sweetest of sentiments in Frederic's heart; but he had never said a word to her on the subject, nothing that signified: "I love you;" and even when everything tends to that conclusion, a woman longs none the less to hear the words.

Again Frederic was silent; he sighed long and loud, but said nothing.

"Will you speak, monsieur? what has happened to disturb you so to-day?--what have I done to deserve your reproaches? Explain yourself clearly; I insist upon it--do you hear, monsieur? I insist upon it."

The expression of her voice was so tender that Frederic could not resist the temptation to look at her again, and doubtless her eyes were in accord with her voice, for he gazed at them several minutes in a sort of ecstasy; but suddenly he cried again:

"What an unhappy wretch I am!"

"You unhappy, Frederic? Why so?"

"You are going to be married."

"Married! This is the first I've heard of it."

"Oh! it's useless for you to try to conceal it from me; I know all, mademoiselle: I know that your future husband will be here in a few days, that he's a colonel, and that you love him."

"What do you say? a colonel? and I love him? Upon my word, this is rather strong! What is the name of this colonel I am going to marry, if you please?"

"His name! Faith! I forgot to ask that. But you must know perfectly well whom I mean. Will you say that you don't know a colonel?"

"Several colonels have called on my uncle, but----"

"Ah! several of them--you admit it now."