Constance did not wait to be urged; she took her place at the piano and sang, accompanying herself excellently; her voice was sweet and full of expression; it had not a great range, but she sang with so much taste that one never tired of listening to her. Frédéric listened with keen delight; he had never heard a voice that pleased him so much. Constance sang several pieces, until at last her uncle said to her: "That is well, very well; you are good-natured and don't make so much fuss about singing as some people do. Morbleu! I can't endure such affectation!" The count and his son joined in their praise of the singing, and thanked Constance, who blushed at their compliments. But their visit had lasted two hours, and they rose to go. "I will pay you a visit," said the general; "I have just bought a little country house in the suburbs for mademoiselle, who drives me crazy with her chatter about fields and birds. I hope that we shall see you and your son there before the season is much further advanced." The count promised, and returned to his carriage with Frédéric, to whom he was careful not to say a word of the general's niece. The sight of Constance was certain to do more than anything a father could say. Frédéric said nothing; his thoughts had returned to the poor dumb girl in the woods. For two hours he had almost forgotten her! Two hours is no great matter; but Sister Anne did not forget him for an instant. Three days after this visit, the general and his niece dined with the Comte de Montreville, who entertained quite a large party. When he learned that he was to see Mademoiselle de Valmont again, Frédéric was conscious of a thrill of excitement, which he attributed to the annoyance of being obliged to conceal his melancholy. Was that the real cause?