“Then, if they had not represented honor as being so exacting, you would not have fought?” “No: I would have told the man that he was an impostor, and that would have sufficed.” The frankness of Eusebe evidently made an impression on the magistrate. “Monsieur Martin,” said he, “I am a father. Permit me to address you as a man.” Eusebe bowed, and the magistrate continued. “Do you think that an actress cares for those who get themselves killed in her defence?” “Yes,” replied the provincial, “when she is honorable and when she knows she is beloved.” “And you love this creature?” “Ah! monsieur, with all my heart!” “Where and how did you make her acquaintance?” Eusebe then related how his father had sent him to Paris to study life, admire civilization, and learn to distinguish the false from the true. His journey, his arrival, his illusions, his meeting with Adéonne, his mode of life since then, his grief, his humiliation,--all,--were told with perfect candor and simplicity. “My son,” said M. de la Varade, “I know something of human nature, and I feel sure that you are sincere. Your affair here will not be followed up. Now it is no longer the judge who speaks: it is the man. Listen! Up to the present time you have not followed the injunctions of your father: you are on the wrong road. Are you not conscious that your present pleasures are entirely factitious and forced? Have you never thought of the hollowness of such fancied enjoyments? Are you not ashamed of being absolutely nothing in a society where each individual has a mission?” “Yes, indeed,” exclaimed the young man. “I have experienced all the sensations you describe. But what can I do, powerless as I am to discover the true path, and with no counsellor to point the way?” “The true is synonymous with one word, which is the religion of society: that word is DUTY.” CHAPTER XLI. Eusebe, upon quitting the _cabinet_ of the magistrate, rejoined his two friends, who were glad to learn that the affair of the duel would be dropped. All three then returned to Paris. Adéonne fairly wept with joy on seeing Eusebe return. But, while the cantatrice did not try to conceal her delight, the provincial seemed abstracted, and paid little attention to this evidence of affection. On the following morning, Eusebe arose at an early hour, hastily completed his toilet, and left the house, much to the astonishment of Adéonne, who did not venture to interrogate him as to the cause of his hasty departure. “He did not close his eyes during the night,” said she to herself, “and he leaves me at this early hour. What can be the matter with him, and where is he going?” Eusebe had taken but a few steps when he returned, as if he had forgotten something. After embracing his mistress, he said,-- “Adéonne, my sweet queen, do you know what duty is?” “Certainly I do.” “Well?”