"It is true that creditors---- Look you, my dear Dubourg, you have all the qualities of a charming companion: you know all the good authors, you know history; take my advice, reform, settle down----" "I have done it; it's all over now: no more gambling, no more escapades, no more drunkenness.--But we aren't drinking." "Your health, my dear friend!" "No more fairy tales, no more lies." "Ah, yes! no more lies, above all; for lying destroys confidence; and then, you made me look like an idiot." "Oh! not altogether." "That's a very handsome seal ring of yours." "It's an emerald that was worn by Ali Pacha." "It's magnificent." "Another glass." "Dear Dubourg! My friend, I am extremely glad to have renewed my acquaintance with you." The liqueur and the punch had completely melted Ménard, who, when he parted from Dubourg, called him his loving friend, and assured him that he might safely go to the Hôtel de Montreville, that monsieur le comte bore him no ill-will and would receive him cordially. On the day following this meeting, Dubourg did, in fact, call upon Frédéric, who had just returned from the general's country house. He passed all his time with Mademoiselle de Valmont. As it was no longer necessary that he should be accompanied by his father, for the general treated him like his own son, he made the most of the liberty accorded him. Every day, he invented some pretext for going to see Constance; for he persisted in deluding himself, in excusing himself in his own eyes, and strove to persuade himself that there was no trace of love in the feeling that drew him to the general's niece. He still thought of Sister Anne, but no longer with the same ardor and affection, and that was what he refused to acknowledge to himself; perhaps, if he should see her again, it would still be inexpressibly sweet to him to hold her in his arms. But it was not she whom he saw, it was Constance; Constance, who was more amiable, more tender, more sentimental with him, day by day; who felt such unbounded pleasure in seeing him and made no attempt to conceal it. Already there was the closest intimacy between them. When she passed two or three days without seeing him, she would reproach him good-naturedly, and avow that she was vexed at his absence; and she said it with such perfect candor and sincerity that Frédéric was deeply touched. However, he had never breathed a word of love to her; but is it necessary to speak to make one's self understood? and what woman, in Constance's place, would not have believed that she was loved? At sight of Dubourg, Frédéric made a gesture of surprise; a keen observer might even have detected a trace of embarrassment. "Here I am," said Dubourg; "I have been in Paris only a week." "Yes, I supposed that you were away. But why this mourning?" "Ah! my friend, my poor aunt--she is no more!" At this point, Dubourg drew his handkerchief and blew his nose three or four times.