"Don't extol Frédéric's virtue so highly, my dear Monsieur Ménard! if he had had nobody but you to guide him----" "Perhaps you would have done it better; for instance, when you travelled with us as Baron Potoski----" "Hush, hush, Monsieur Ménard! Let that journey be forgotten; there was nothing to choose between us. I trust that you have never spoken of that little adventure in the woods--that love affair of Frédéric's--before Madame de Montreville?" "Oh! what do you take me for? I am well aware that it would be a great mistake now: _non est hic locus_; and yet, Madame de Montreville could not take offence; anything that happened before her marriage doesn't concern her; she has too much good sense not to laugh at her husband's little escapades as a bachelor." "Despite her good sense, there are some things a woman never likes to hear about; we should always avoid saying anything to make her think that another has possessed her husband's heart. Although when she marries a young man, a woman is well aware that he has already known love, she persuades herself that he has never loved anyone as dearly as he loves her; she desires to be the one who has inspired the most ardent passion, and it is a great affliction to her to lose that illusion." "I understand; it's like telling a cook that one has never eaten a better dish of macaroni." "Precisely. You're an amazing fellow for similes. Besides, I believe that the young woman is capable of being jealous, she loves her husband so passionately!" "Indeed, I believe you are right. I noticed one day that she didn't seem in such good spirits as usual; I suppose that it was because her husband had amused himself for some time patting a cat." "The devil take you and your cats! the idea of suspecting Constance of such folly!" "Folly? Why, there are men who prefer their dog to their wives, just as there are women who prefer their canary to their husband. I don't refer to my pupil; but----" "But has Madame de Montreville ever asked you, as she has me, whether Frédéric has always been subject to fits of depression, of melancholy?" "Yes, yes; I remember that only the other evening she said to me in an undertone: 'See how Frédéric sighs! Do you know whether anything is troubling him? Can you guess the reason?'" "Well! what was your answer?" "Parbleu! I answered: 'I suppose it's because he has indigestion, madame; that interferes with the breathing; it is often the case.'--Since then, she hasn't asked me any questions on that subject." "I can well believe it!"