"You have found her, father? is it possible?" "Yes; on a farm near Grenoble. I left her there, and I provided against her ever being in want." "But how did you find her? You could not recognize her." "Her misfortune, her youth--she interested me deeply; something told me that she was the person I sought, and I have no doubt of it now, since you have told me that she is dumb. I tell you again that you need not be alarmed concerning her future; I left her with excellent people, who are fond of her, and she will be very comfortable there; moreover, I shall not fail to have an eye to her welfare." The count was careful not to mention his adventure in the forest and his indebtedness to Sister Anne; he was afraid that Frédéric's love would blaze up anew if he should learn that she had saved his father's life. He was especially solicitous that Frédéric should not know that the dumb girl was on the point of becoming a mother; that intelligence might disarrange the plans he had formed. For the count, although he was interested now in Sister Anne, and proposed to take care of her and her child, was none the less desirous for his son's marriage to his old friend's niece; and to that end he considered it most essential to conceal everything relating to the unhappy mute. On arriving in Paris, he had expressly forbidden his servant to mention the adventure in the forest or the young woman they had left at the farm. His father's assurance that Sister Anne was living among kindly people, and was amply provided against want, allayed Frédéric's remorse. That sentiment rarely lasts long in love, and the new passion is always at hand to dispel the memories of the old one. By Constance's side the young man entirely forgot the poor maid of the woods; and while renewing his oaths and protestations of love to Constance, he lost the memory of those he had laid at another woman's feet. The Comte de Montreville's return was soon to be followed by the marriage of the young people. Frédéric longed for it, Constance hoped for it, and the general made no objection, because he did not believe in making lovers sigh too long. Thus everybody was agreed; there was no obstacle to delay their happiness. The wedding day was fixed. The general vowed that he would dance at his niece's wedding, although he had never danced in his life; the count was anxious to greet Constance by the sweet name of daughter, and the lovers--oh! you know what their desires were; it may be guessed, but must not be said. Engrossed by his approaching happiness, Frédéric was rarely disturbed by the memories which brought a sad expression to his face; if by chance a sigh escaped him, a glance from Constance speedily put to flight the thoughts of other times. Constance was so sweet-tempered, and the near approach of happiness made her so beautiful, that it was impossible not to adore her.