"Constance," said the general, "this is my friend, the Comte de Montreville, and his son; messieurs, let me present my niece--my daughter--for I love her as dearly as if I were her father." Constance courtesied gracefully to the two visitors. Frédéric looked at her--he could not do otherwise than think her charming. As for the count, a smile of satisfaction played over his features. I believe that the sly old fellow had heard of Mademoiselle Constance, and that he had his little scheme in his head when he took his son to see the general. Constance was slender and graceful; there was something sweet and modest in her aspect, which impressed one favorably. She was fair, with a touch of color in her cheeks. Her great blue eyes, set off by long, dark lashes, had an indefinable charm; her expression was amiable and frank; every movement was instinct with grace, and she seemed absolutely unconscious of it. Far from seeking to attract attention, she seemed desirous to shun the admiration she aroused. The two old friends fell to talking over their campaigns and their youthful adventures, and, at sixty, such subjects are inexhaustible. So that it was necessary for Frédéric to talk with the general's niece; and, although one's heart is heavy, one does not like to bore a pretty woman, but makes an effort to forget one's sorrow momentarily, in order not to appear too dull. That is what our hero tried to do while chatting with Mademoiselle Constance, who talked very agreeably, and, without the least trace of ostentation, revealed a judicious, cultivated mind, great love for art, and a candor and modesty which imparted an additional charm to everything she said. She was not one of those young women who know everything and discuss every subject, of whom we have so many, and whom we are good-natured enough to call little prodigies because they chatter on for hours with extraordinary assurance, and because it is customary to praise every word that falls from a pretty mouth, even when it lacks common sense. May God protect you from prodigies, reader, especially of the female variety! There is nothing comparable to that which is simple, modest, and natural; we are always glad to return to that. Those qualities do not exclude intelligence and knowledge, but they add to them a varnish of unassuming gentleness which makes them even more attractive, and which is never found in the others. The young people talked of painting, music, and the pleasures of the country. Suddenly the general said to his niece: "Sing us something, Constance; sit you down at your piano and sing. I like singing myself, and perhaps it will entertain our young friend here."