A hand was placed on his shoulder; and Marechal's affectionate voice said to him: "Well! what are you doing here, gesticulating like that?" Pierre turned round. Lost in his thoughts he had not heard his friend approaching. "All our guests have arrived," continued Marechal. "I have only just been able to leave them and to come to you. I have been seeking you for more than a quarter of an hour. You are wrong to hide yourself; people will make remarks. Come toward the house; it is as well to show yourself a little; people might imagine things which they must not imagine." "Eh! let them think what they like; what does it matter to me?" said Pierre, sadly. "My life is a blank." "Your life may be a blank; but it is your duty not to let any one perceive it. Imitate the young Spartan, who smiled although the fox, hidden under his cloak, was gnawing his vitals. Let us avoid ridicule, my friend. In society there is nothing that provokes laughter more than a disappointed lover, who rolls his eyes about and looks woe-begone. And, then, you-see, suffering is a human law; the world is an arena, life is a conflict. Material obstacles, moral griefs, all hinder and overwhelm us. We must go on, though, all the same, and fight. Those who give in are trodden down! Come, pull yourself together!" "And for whom should I fight now? A moment ago I was making projects, but I was a fool! All hope and ambition are dead in me." "Ambition will return, you may be sure! At present you are suffering from weariness of mind; but your strength will return. As to hope, one must never despair." "What can I expect in the future?" "What? Why, everything! In this world all sorts of things happen!" said Marechal, gayly. "Who is to prove that the Princess will not be a widow soon?" Pierre could not help laughing and said, "Come, don't talk such nonsense!" "My dear fellow," concluded Marechal, "in life it is only nonsense that is common-sense. Come and smoke a cigar." They traversed several groups of people and bent their steps in the direction of the chateau. The Prince was advancing toward the terrace, with an elegantly dressed and beautiful woman on his arm. Savinien, in the midst of a circle of dandies, was picking the passers-by to pieces in his easy-going way. Pierre and Marechal came behind these young men without being noticed. "Who is that hanging on the arm of our dear Prince?" asked a little fat man, girt in a white satin waistcoat, and a spray of white lilac in his buttonhole. "Eh! Why, Le Brede, my boy, you don't know anything!" cried Savinien in a bantering, jocose tone. "Because I don't know that lovely fair woman?" said Le Brede, in a piqued voice. "I don't profess to know the names of all the pretty women in Paris!" "In Paris? That woman from Paris? You have not looked at her. Come, open your eyes. Pure English style, my friend."