Constance was chargeable with but one fault--a very lamentable one when one cannot control it, but which she confined sedulously within her own breast. She was jealous; the very excess of her love for Frédéric sometimes caused her a secret alarm. When he seemed dreamy and pensive, Constance became uneasy, and a multitude of apprehensions crowded into her mind. What could it be that engrossed her husband's thoughts, saddened him, and made him sigh?--for he still sighed sometimes. Before their marriage, she attributed to his love for her the melancholy that often darkened his brow. But now that they were united, now that they could give a free rein to their affection, and there was nothing to mar their happiness, why did Frédéric continue to sigh? why was he sometimes preoccupied? That was what Constance asked herself, but the amiable girl was careful not to let her husband see what she felt; she would have been terribly distressed to display the slightest suspicion. Although jealous, she would not annoy her husband; she would continue to be as loving and sweet as always; and if she suffered, she would carefully conceal her suffering, in order not to distress him whom she loved better than her life. After a year, their happiness was interrupted for a moment by the general's death. Monsieur de Valmont was beloved by all who knew him; he was very dear to his niece, to whom he had been as an affectionate and indulgent father. Her husband's love alone could comfort Constance in her profound grief for her uncle's death. Monsieur de Montreville mingled his regrets with her tears; he had lost a true friend; but in old age we often show more courage than in the springtime of life, in bearing the death of those who are dear to us. Is it because age makes us selfish? Is it because the heart, having become insensible to the flames of love, closes its doors to the transports of friendship; or is it rather because of the reflection that the separation cannot be for long, and that we shall soon join those whom we have lost? Constance was her uncle's sole heir; the general was very rich, and owned a number of farms and estates in the provinces, with which Frédéric wished to make himself familiar. So he had formed a plan of visiting their new possessions, and Constance was to remain at Paris, in order not to leave Monsieur de Montreville alone with his grief for the loss of his friend. But how could he make up his mind to leave his wife before her grief had begun to subside? As the visit of inspection was not urgent, Frédéric postponed it from month to month; and Constance, who had not as yet been separated from her husband for a single day, could not decide to let him go. Some time after the general's death, Frédéric learned that Monsieur Ménard, being frequently incapacitated by the gout, had lost all his pupils and was in very reduced circumstances. So he went to see his former tutor, and asked him to come to live with him.