"No," he thought, "I did not lie to my mother. What Madame d'Estrelle inspires in me is a very strong, lofty, exquisitely delicate friendship; but it is not, as I thought at first, a frantic and disastrous passion; or, if I had an attack of that fever at the beginning, it disappeared on the day when I saw that simple, kindly, trustful woman close at hand, when I heard her sweet, chaste voice, when I realized that she was an angel and that my aspirations were not worthy of her. No, no, I am not in love, according to the common understanding of the term; I love with a full heart, that is all, and I will not allow my imagination to torment me. The earth has hardly closed over my poor father; I have not an hour to waste if I wish to save my mother. No, no, I have no right, I have no time to give way to passion." Marcel noticed Julien's tranquillity and was unable to understand the mental perturbation which made itself manifest in Madame d'Estrelle's behavior. He found her one day just returned from a visit to her father-in-law the marquis. His life was thought to be no longer in danger, and Marcel might hope to talk with him again before long concerning his client's pecuniary embarrassments. "Oh! _mon Dieu_, you put yourself to very great trouble for me," said Julie; "but is it worth while? I give you my word that I am quite willing to be poor; I should probably be no more bored than I am now." "And yet you are beautifully arrayed and intending to pass the evening in company." "No, I am going to change my dress; I don't expect to go out. With whom should I go out, pray? I am at odds with Madame d'Ancourt, the only person to whose house I might venture to go alone in the evening, as she was my schoolmate at the convent. I am not intimate enough with any of the others to appear at their houses without a chaperone; Madame Desmorges, who might act in that capacity for me, is indolent beyond words; my cousin the _présidente_ is not received in aristocratic society, and the Marquise d'Orbe is in the country. Really I am terribly bored, Monsieur Thierry, I am too much alone, and there are days when I can do nothing, having no heart for anything." It was the first time that Julie had complained of her situation. Marcel looked at her attentively and reflected. "You must divert your mind a little; why don't you go to the play sometimes?" "But I haven't a box anywhere now; you know very well that I can no longer afford it." "An additional reason for going wherever you please. A box by the year is downright slavery; it puts you on exhibition and makes a chaperone a necessity. There are some small pleasures which the bourgeois indulge in at small expense and without inconvenient display. To-day, for instance, I am to take my wife to the Comédie-Française. We have hired a closed box on the ground floor."