Michel was never so grateful to destiny as at this moment, for he was able to ease his feelings by an exhibition of genuine surprise. But for that he must soon have burst into tears. "Simply that she is dead. It is true, my friend. 'She is dead,' said her parent, and 'since it appears you come as a lover and would have stolen from me my daughter who should be above such feminine foolishness as love and marriage, I add my thanks to the Highest that she has ceased to exist in time'--these are the very words of her father, whose throat I could have pinched with satisfaction. What say you, _mon ami_, have I the right to be distressed? By all the Saints, Michel, it is too cruel a trick of Destiny. I could have loved this girl. God knows, I might even have married her. Never before have I felt so fondly disposed towards a woman, never so virtuous. I believe this was true love, my friend, or the beginning of it." "_Nom de la Guerre!_" exclaimed Michel. "And she is dead, say you--the father himself declared it?" "I have said so. 'She ceased to exist'--that was his odd manner of expressing it; 'she ceased to exist on the day of conscription'; it is odd how the crazy old man dates naturally from that day; he is mad upon men; he loves only men, honours men, thinks men; women are nothing to him. You would suppose he would be affected in speaking of the death of his daughter; but no! It seemed that her loss is nothing to him. Why? because she was not a man." To Henri's surprise and displeasure Michel at this point suddenly burst into a roar of laughter. He looked up frowning. "I beg ten thousand pardons," cried Michel, half choking; "I am not wanting in sympathy, _mon ami_; but in truth the attitude and words of this old man are very comical. Forgive me, Baron, I was very rude." "Enough. I would laugh also if I had the heart. Certainly the old man is a lunatic. Tell me, Michel; what shall I do? What is going on? I shall die of ennui if I sit and nurse my grief, as now. Thanks to Heaven that you have arrived; it may be that the Saints sent you for my salvation, as before at Smolensk. Come, suggest. I must be made amused; must laugh. I must see movement of men and women." "Ha! you are not so overwhelmed by your grief, I see, that you cannot feel the desire for amusement. That is a good sign, Baron; you will soon recover, I prophesy." "A good sign, say you? There is no question of recovery. You are far from the truth, my friend. It is distraction that I need. I do not yet ask to be cured, that would be impossible." "That depends! The rapidity of the healing depends upon the severity or otherwise of the wound. Yours is, I take it, but a shallow slash." "Michel, you wound me again by these words. I need distraction; but that does not imply that I am not almost heart-broken, which I verily believe that I am. You, who have never been in love, are unable to appreciate the anguish of having loved and lost."