"Enough, monsieur! You do not propose to marry your conquest, I presume? Still, it is possible that you have some wrongs to undo. I do not know this girl. Perhaps you are more culpable than I think; perhaps she whom you seduced, or led astray, is now cast off and abandoned through your fault, and is living in want. If her misfortunes can be mended with money, you may be sure that I will not spare it, monsieur; but I will attend to the business, not you." "You, father?" "Yes, monsieur, I; I shall be better able to arrange it than anyone else. So you need not leave Paris now. Besides," the count continued, after a moment's thought, "your presence here is indispensable. The general expects to marry his niece to a young colonel, who will probably arrive in Paris very soon." "The general expects to marry his niece!" echoed Frédéric. Already his features had assumed a different expression: sadness and melancholy were succeeded by violent emotion, a jealous perturbation which was manifest in his excited glance, and which made it impossible for him to remain seated. His voice trembled, and, as he questioned his father, it seemed as if his life or death hung upon the answer he was to receive. "Yes," said the count, in an indifferent tone, pretending not to notice Frédéric's state of mind, "yes; and, for my part, I see nothing surprising about it." "And--this colonel is coming to Paris? Do you know him, father? Is he young? Is he supposed to be handsome? Mademoiselle de Valmont loves him, of course?" "You don't think that I am in Mademoiselle de Valmont's confidence, do you? She met the colonel in society, I presume. I believe he's a young man of twenty-eight or thirty." "Good-looking?" "Oh! whether he's good-looking or ugly, isn't an honorable man always attractive?" "And this marriage is all arranged?" "So it seems." "And Mademoiselle Constance has never mentioned it to me!" "Why on earth should she have told you beforehand of something that a well-bred young woman never mentions?" "Oh! of course--I had no claim--there was no reason why I should know--and still, I should have thought----" "Besides, it is possible that the general hasn't mentioned his plans to his niece as yet." "And this is the reason why I must stay in Paris?" "To be sure; at such times, there are innumerable details to be attended to--clothes and presents and wedding festivities; the general, being accustomed to camp life, knows nothing about such things; a bachelor always needs advice, and he relies on you to help him." "Indeed! that's very kind of him; I am highly flattered that he considers me good enough for that." "So, Frédéric, I say again that you must not think of leaving Paris now." This argument was no longer necessary. The count left the house to call upon his old friend, to whom he had something to say privately; and Frédéric, long after his father's departure, was completely crushed by what he had learned. Poor Sister Anne! your image had vanished.