The count walked away with a smile on his face, and Dubourg was convinced that he was greatly pleased with him. The day was at an end. Ménard returned to his tiny lodging, reviewing in his mind all the delicious dishes he had eaten. Dubourg was no sooner outside the house than he began to jump and run like a schoolboy who is no longer under the master's eye. Frédéric and Constance were happy. Annoying witnesses were no longer present to curb the transports of their affection. Company is a burden to lovers, and they await impatiently solitude and mystery. At last, Frédéric was permitted to take his wife away; on the wedding night, a husband is a lover who abducts his mistress. XXVI SISTER ANNE BECOMES A MOTHER.--HER LONG STAY AT THE FARM Sister Anne was still at the farmhouse where the Comte de Montreville left her; for it is no longer a secret to us that the stranger whom she had rescued from the robbers' hovel was Frédéric's father, then returning from Vizille, where he had been to inquire concerning the fate of the girl whom his son had abandoned. He had found no one in the cabin in the woods but the old shepherd, who did not know in what direction Sister Anne had gone. To all the count's questions, he could make no other answer than: "She's gone away; she insisted on going; I don't know where she's gone." On leaving the woods, the count had visited the outskirts of Grenoble, and was on his way back to Lyon when his carriage was stopped in the forest. Sister Anne, despite her longing to continue her journey, realized that she was in no condition to travel; the moment of her delivery was drawing near, when she could press to her heart the fruit of her love. That thought diminished her suffering to some extent; the hope of seeing her child diverted her thoughts at times from her troubles, and everyone at the farm strove to restore her peace of mind and to bring back a smile to her lips. They were worthy people, who took the most affectionate interest in the poor girl. Even without recompense, they would have been no less kind to her; but money does no harm, and the sum the Comte de Montreville had given them, when he requested them to continue to take care of Sister Anne, was considerable, according to their ideas. The dumb girl, realizing that her stay among them must be long, offered them the purse that the old gentleman had given her just before he went away; but they would take nothing from her.