Frédéric went to Dubourg and urged him to act as he naturally would; but, convinced that his conversation, his tone, and his bearing delighted Monsieur de Montreville, it was impossible to induce Dubourg to change them. A magnificent dinner was served at the Hôtel de Montreville, whence the young people were to return in the evening to the general's house, where they were to live. As the general was often absent, he required only a small suite, and gave up three-fourths of the house to the newly married pair. Marriages in the first society have not the hilarity of bourgeois marriages; which fact is some compensation to the bourgeoisie for not belonging to the first society. However, the repast was rather merry in a mild way. Monsieur Ménard devoted himself to the good cheer, as he did at Monsieur Chambertin's; but Dubourg ate little; he refused almost every dish, because he thought it much more _comme il faut_. Nor was it possible to induce him to accept a glass of champagne or liqueur. "I never take it," he said, with imperturbable phlegm. The Comte de Montreville stared at him in amazement, while Ménard, who sat next to him, said again and again: "You used to take it, though; I've seen you take it often enough! Say you're sick, and I'll believe you." "Your friend is wonderfully sober," said the general to Frédéric; "you have brought us an anchorite." After the dinner, dancing engaged the attention of the guests for the rest of the evening. The new husband and wife indulged in that pastime, which enabled them to wait with more patience for the greater pleasures to come; dancing is always essential to bring a wedding party to a cheerful termination. But Dubourg did not dance; he walked stiffly through the salons, holding his head as if he had a stiff neck, and never stopping near an écarté table. "Don't you play, Monsieur Dubourg?" asked the count, with a smile. "No, monsieur le comte; I have altogether renounced all games for money; I care for nothing but chess; that is the only sensible game, and the only one suited to me." "Don't you dance, either?" "Never; I care for nothing but the minuet, which is a sedate and dignified dance. It's a great pity that it isn't danced nowadays." "The deuce! Monsieur Dubourg, you are tremendously changed. You used to be a little giddy, I think." "Ah! monsieur le comte, other times, other cares; with advancing years, one grows wiser." "Advancing years! why, it's not one year yet since you played Hippolyte, and would have made poor Ménard play Thésée." "Oh! monsieur le comte, a very great revolution has taken place in me since then. I care for nothing now but study and science--science above all things; for, as Cato says: _Sine doctrina vita est quasi mortis imago_."