Unluckily, the eggs in the omelet were not fresh, and the wine was sour; Ménard made a wry face at every mouthful and every swallow, while Dubourg said: "I know of no healthier food than an omelet. Whatever country you travel in, wherever you may be, if there are eggs, you have an omelet! Everybody knows how to make it; it's a universal dish, the dish of nature." "If only the eggs were fresh!" "Faith! this little taste of straw isn't unpleasant; at need, it will take the place of tarragon. And this wine--at all events, I'll guarantee that it won't do us any harm." "It's infernally sour!" "A proof that it's unadulterated." Despite all that Dubourg could say to make Ménard approve of the breakfast, the tutor said, as they left the table: "I think that we must go to hunt up Monsieur Frédéric de Montreville." And Dubourg said to himself: "He'll receive me cordially, when he knows that I have broken the bank again in less than a month! How in the devil am I to get out of the scrape? And how am I going to ask him for anything, when he gave it all to me? I can't go and preach to him--that isn't in my line. Indeed, I think that I shall have to induce Ménard to come and live in the woods with me; we will become hermits, and I won't play écarté any more." The travellers made a détour round Grenoble, without entering the city. They halted in a small village, and Ménard spoke again of joining Frédéric. Dubourg lost his patience, and told him that he would go alone to Vizille to see what he could learn. He left the village, walked as far as a small patch of forest, lay down on the grass, slept there all day, and at night returned to Ménard, holding his handkerchief to his eyes and sighing as if his heart were broken. "Well, well! what in heaven's name has happened to him?" inquired the tutor, anxiously. "The ingrate! the harebrained fool!" "Speak, monsieur le baron, I entreat you!" "I suspected that he would do some insane thing. He has gone off with his fair one. They left the forest a fortnight ago." "Great heaven! what will monsieur le comte say? what answer shall I make him, when he asks me what I have done with his son?" "You must tell him that you lost him." "Do you believe, monsieur le baron, that such an answer will satisfy him?" "Then you can tell him that he lost himself. But be calm, my dear Ménard. I promise you that we will find Frédéric again. I have friends in all the courts of Europe; the young man will be restored to us." This promise pacified poor Ménard to some extent, and Dubourg continued: "Before we consider what to do about him, let us think of ourselves, for our position is not very splendid. We shall not find resources in this wretched village; let us go to the nearest town; and, above all things, my dear Ménard, do try to get rid of that heart-broken look, which will inspire an exceedingly unfavorable opinion of us in every inn at which we stop."