The carriage was ready; what was he to do? How could he disobey his father? Frédéric trembled with agitation; he was still hesitating; but the count took him by the hand and led him toward the carriage, and he dared not resist. He had had no time for reflection before he was already at some distance from Grenoble. He put his head out of the window and gazed in the direction of Vizille; he heaved a profound sigh, his eyes filled with tears, as he thought of Sister Anne, and he said to himself again and again: "Poor child! what will she think?" XVII THE JOYS OF LOVE LAST BUT A MOMENT, THE SORROWS OF LOVE ENDURE THROUGH LIFE Why does the love of a month bear so little resemblance to the love of a day? why is the love of a year still less passionate than that of a month? why are we so indifferent to the enjoyment of that which we possess without any obstacles, and why does our enjoyment sometimes cease altogether when we possess what we have ardently desired? It is because everything passes away in this world, where we ourselves are simply birds of passage; it is because men who are greedy of pleasure are always seeking new forms of pleasure, and to many of them love is simply a diversion. But you will say to me, perhaps: "I have been married three years, and I love my wife as dearly as I did the first day;" or: "My lover has adored me for six months, and he is more in love than ever." I have no doubt of it; there are exceptions to every rule, and everyone can invoke them in his favor; and, furthermore, I do not say that love vanishes; I mean simply that it changes its hue; and, unhappily, the last variations have not the splendor, the lustre, the charm, of the original color. Frédéric still loved the pretty mute, beyond question; but he had been living with her in the woods for three weeks, and it began to seem a little monotonous to him. The great fault of lovers is to yield too freely to the intoxication of passion in the first days of their happiness. They are like those gluttons who go to the table with a tremendous appetite, and who eat so fast that they are filled to repletion before the repast is half served. Sister Anne felt none of this ennui; she was happier and more loving with Frédéric than ever. As a general rule, women love more truly than men, and, moreover, the unfortunate orphan was no ordinary woman; to her, Frédéric was the whole earth, the universe. Since she had known him, her intelligence had awakened, her mind had developed; she had learned to think, to reflect, to form desires, to fear, and to hope; a thousand new sensations had made her heart beat fast. Before she knew what love was, her life had been only a dream, but Frédéric had roused her from it.