"She's a woman whom you will find it hard not to agree with, for there can't be a quarrel without a dispute; now, when there's no dispute, there can't be a quarrel; and there can't be a dispute in this case, because----"

But Dubourg was not listening; he was already in the garden, where he saw Madame de Montreville in the distance, with a child in her arms, and beside her a young woman dressed in a simple white gown. He walked toward them; the young woman saw him and ran, yes, flew to his side, seized his arm, and gazed at him in anxious suspense; while Dubourg stood like one petrified, for he had recognized Sister Anne.

"Mon Dieu! what has happened to her?" Constance asked Dubourg, who was completely bewildered to find the dumb girl, in such a different costume, walking with Constance, who was carrying her son in her arms.

"What an extraordinary effect your presence has produced on her! See how she looks at you! She seems to be questioning you with those eloquent eyes. Do you know this poor child?"

"Why, no--that is, yes, yes, I saw her once; but she was so different then; in this dress--and with this child--faith, I did not recognize her!"

Dubourg was confused and embarra.s.sed; he did not know what he ought to say, and Sister Anne still held his arm, while her eyes implored him to speak.

"What! you know her?" said Constance, in surprise; "but what does she want of you now? can't you guess what it is that she seems to want to know?"

"Oh! I beg your pardon--I begin to understand. I knew this poor girl's lover, and she is trying to ask me about him."

"Well, answer her, then, at once; see! her eyes are full of tears."

"Faith! I have nothing pleasant to tell her; her seducer has gone abroad, and, in all probability, she will never see him again.--I don't know what has become of him," he said to Sister Anne; "I have never seen him since, any more than you. And so, my dear child, you must try to forget him."

Sister Anne, who had listened with the closest attention to every word that fell from Dubourg's lips, dropped her head on her breast when he had finished; then she went and sat down under a tree, and gave free vent to her grief and her tears.

"Poor woman!" said Constance; "alas! she still loves the man who deserted her. Who could have abused her innocence so heartlessly?"

"He was a young painter, madame; he was travelling at the time--for his instruction. While in search of fine views, he fell in with Sister Anne--for that is her name. She is, I believe, the child of peasants; but I can't say so with certainty, for I do not know her family; however, my friend saw her and fell in love with her. These painters have flighty imaginations--and a child was the result. That's all that I know; I never saw this girl but once, when I was riding with my friend."

"In my eyes, he is very blameworthy. You men treat such affairs very lightly. To seduce a woman, and then abandon her, is, in your eyes, a mere youthful escapade, of which, indeed, you often boast!"

"Oh! madame, I can flatter myself that I never seduced anybody."

"I am speaking generally; but I am very certain that my Frederic never did as so many thoughtless, heedless young men do! He is too sensitive, too loving, to try to deceive a young and inexperienced heart. See what horrible results such reckless conduct may have! This poor child, finding that she was enceinte, must have left her parents and fled from her native place. Without money, and bereft of that organ which is so necessary in the world, she travelled through city and country at random, and exposed to all the horrors of want. The unhappy creature!

how she must have suffered! Oh! if you had seen her when I took her in, she would have made your heart ache. But she has found a friend now; I will not desert her, and, if I cannot make her altogether happy, she will not, at all events, have to dread want while she is with me."

Dubourg made no reply; the sight of Sister Anne gave him too much to think about.

"Your presence has renewed her grief by recalling her seducer," said Constance; "go away for a moment, and I will try to comfort her, although I am well aware that for such griefs there is no comfort. Could I enjoy a moment's happiness if Frederic should forget me? But she has her son at least, and his caresses will allay her sorrow."

Constance carried little Frederic to his mother and placed him on her knees, while Dubourg walked quickly back to the house and joined Menard, who did not know what to think when he saw his former travelling companion's horrified expression.

"All is lost, Monsieur Menard!" cried Dubourg, halting in front of the tutor.

"What? what is lost? King Stanislas's berlin or the King of Prussia's snuff-box? You know perfectly well that I am not to be taken in in that way again."

"Oh! let's hear no more of all that nonsense! This is a very serious matter, involving the happiness and peace of mind of Frederic and his wife."

"I'll bet that it's not true; you're going to tell me some new fairy tale to lead me into a trap; but _non me ludit amabilis insania_."

"Will you listen to me, Monsieur Menard? Morbleu! how could a man of your years fail to antic.i.p.ate what has happened?"

"What do you mean by that? a man of my years! I beg that you will explain yourself, Monsieur Dubourg."

"You allow Madame de Montreville to take into her house, to install there----"

"Whom, in heaven's name?"

"Whom! morbleu! the girl for whom Frederic made a fool of himself; the girl who turned his head, and with whom he lived six weeks in the woods; the girl whom he adored then, and whom, for all I know, he loves still; for a man's heart is beyond comprehension! In short, Sister Anne, the dumb girl of the woods, of Vizille, is the one whom Madame de Montreville now has in her house!"

"Mon Dieu! what do I hear?"

"Do you mean to say you didn't recognize her?"

"Recognize her! a girl I never saw but once, and then at a distance? I don't scrutinize young women as you do, monsieur; and could I suspect, did I know, that she was dumb? did anyone tell me so? No; no one tells me anything, and then they expect me to know everything by divination!

You young men are inconceivable! do you suppose I should know Latin if I had never learned it?"

"Well! you know it now."

"Parbleu! I was thrashed often enough to know it! Gad! how many stripes I got for the _Epitome_, and how many _pensums_ for Phaedrus's fables!"

"Great heaven! Monsieur Menard, I am talking about Sister Anne, who is here in this house, with Frederic's wife."

"I understand, I understand perfectly."

"When Frederic returns, she will see him; her excitement, her tears, and her caresses will betray the truth. Just think of Madame de Montreville's feelings, when the husband whom she adores and believes to be a model of fidelity finds in his house a mistress and a child--a child, above all!"

"Yes, yes; I realize all that."

"Well, then, speak! what are we to do?"

"I have no idea."

"It is impossible to let Sister Anne live under the same roof as Frederic."

"Of course; it's most embarra.s.sing! But she was so wretched!"

"Do you think that I mean to abandon her? I've only sixteen hundred francs a year, but I would gladly sacrifice it all to prevent her presence from disturbing the happiness of this young couple. Yes; I will work for my living, if necessary, or I'll pa.s.s the whole of every quarter with Frederic; but that young woman and her child shall be placed beyond the reach of want."

"That is very n.o.ble, my dear Dubourg, and if I had any property--but I have nothing save my old cla.s.sics, which wouldn't be of any use to her, because she can't read."

"But how are we to set about inducing Sister Anne to leave this house?"

"That would be a very hard task: Madame de Montreville is very fond of her, and is wild over the child; she thinks that he looks like my pupil--Frederic. By the way, I can conceive a reason for that resemblance now."

"I don't know what to do; I can think of nothing. When does Frederic return?"

"In a week; we have plenty of time."

"Time! a week will soon be gone; and if he finds Sister Anne here!"

"Why, it seems to me that we might tell the girl not to speak."