"My dear countess, you must forgive me for a bad dream I had, which has vanished now. I judged too hastily, I was foolishly alarmed, and I frightened you with my chimeras. I thought that my son had the presumption to love you, I was so sure of it that it has taken this past fortnight to disabuse me of the idea. So forget what I said to you and give back to my poor child the esteem which he has never ceased to deserve. He does not raise his eyes or his thoughts to you. He venerates you as he ought, and if you should need someone to die for you, he would grasp the opportunity; but there is no romantic passion in his devotion, simply fervent and heartfelt gratitude. He has sworn to me that it is so. I doubted his word at first, but I was wrong. I have watched him; I have done better than that, I have played the spy for a fortnight, and now I am reassured. He eats, he sleeps, he talks, he goes in and out, and works cheerily; in a word, he is not in love: he does not try to see you, he speaks of you with tranquil admiration, he does not seem to desire an opportunity to attract your eyes, nor will he ever seek it. Forgive my folly, and love me as before." Julie accepted this perfectly sincere declaration of Madame Thierry with gracious satisfaction. They talked of something else and remained together an hour; then they parted, congratulating each other on having no further subject of discomfort, and on being able to renew their relations without agitation or danger to anyone. How did it happen that when she was alone once more, Julie was overwhelmed by an inexplicable depression? She sought the cause to no purpose, and vented her spleen on the next visitors who came. Her old friend Madame Desmorges seemed intolerably loquacious; the old Duc de Quesnoy as dull and tiresome as a blacksmith's hammer; her cousin, Madame la Présidente Boursault, prudish and hypocritical; the abbé--there was always an abbe in every private circle in those days--conceited and insipid. And, when Camille came to dress her hair at the usual hour, she pettishly dismissed her, saying: "What is the use?" Then she recalled her, and, impelled by a sudden caprice, asked her if the usual period for semi-mourning had not expired within three days. "Why, yes, madame," said Camille, "it is all over! and madame la comtesse does very wrong not to stop wearing it. If she continues to wear it, it will have a very bad effect." "How so, Camille?" "People will say that madame is prolonging her grief for economy, to wear out her gray gowns." "That is most excellent reasoning, my dear, and I bow to it. Bring me a pink dress at once." "Pink? No, madame, it is too soon for that. People would say that madame wore mourning reluctantly, and that she changed her mind with her dress. Madame should wear a pretty dress of royal blue with white flowers." "Very good! But haven't all my dresses gone out of style in the two years I have been in mourning?"