The next day I took my children to Monsieur Roquencourt’s house. I found the uncle walking in his garden, with several people from the neighborhood. Rich folk soon become popular; the neighbors vie with one another in becoming intimate with people who own a carriage. Monsieur Roquencourt was telling his new acquaintances about a scene from _Monsieur de Crac_; he took my son and daughter by the hand, and offered to show them his garden and to let them taste his peaches. I let them go and went into the house to pay my respects to Caroline. I heard the notes of a piano. A piano! how many things that instrument recalled to my mind! Those chords caused me a sharp pang now. I remembered that Mademoiselle Derbin had told me that she played the piano. I strove to overcome my emotions, and I entered the salon where Caroline was. I listened to her for some time without speaking; I cannot describe my sensations. She stopped at last and I approached her. “Were you there?” she asked me. “Yes, I have been listening to you.” “Didn’t you bring your children?” “I beg pardon, they are with your uncle.” “Your children are lovely, and I congratulate you, monsieur, upon having them with you. It is a proof that your wife has forgiven your wrongdoing, since she entrusts to you her dearest treasures. That leads me to think that before long she herself----” “Did you see her again before leaving Mont-d’Or, mademoiselle?” “No, monsieur; she left the hotel where we were staying, on the day after you. Don’t you know where she is now?” “No, mademoiselle.” “Upon my word, monsieur, I utterly fail to understand your conduct. You seem to love, to be devoted to your children, and you abandon their suffering, unhappy mother! If I had never seen you, and anybody had told me about you, I should have imagined you as hideous physically as morally; but when one knows you, one cannot think that.”