During the rest of the day, Dubourg cudgelled his brain to think how he could bring about Sister Anne's departure from Madame de Montreville's house, but he could not decide upon any plan. How was he to remove her from a luxurious home, where the most affectionate attentions were lavished upon her, and where her son was overwhelmed with caresses? Would not Sister Anne, far from consenting to such a plan, refuse to see therein anything more than shocking ingratitude, of which her loving, grateful heart was utterly incapable? To tell her that Constance's husband was her seducer would not avail to induce her to go away, for her intense longing to see Frédéric would prevail in her heart over every other consideration. She conceived herself to be united to her lover by the oaths they had exchanged; could she imagine that another woman had rights, more sacred at least, if not more equitable, than her own? Dubourg dared not risk that method, and he tormented himself in vain to find another. At last he went to Ménard, and said to him: "Well, have you thought of any expedient to induce Sister Anne to leave this house?" And Ménard, after taking a pinch of snuff and reflecting for five minutes, led Dubourg into a corner and replied in an undertone: "I can't think of anything at all." While talking with Constance, Dubourg tried to persuade her to send the dumb girl to live on one of her estates at some distance from Paris; but Madame de Montreville scouted the suggestion with much earnestness. "Why," she said, "should I deprive myself of this young woman's company, and of the presence of her son, whom I love as if he belonged to me? If the unhappy creature were not under my eyes, would she receive all the attentions that tend to alleviate her position? No; I shall never part with her; every day I feel that I become more and more attached to her. If you knew how grateful she is to me for everything I do for her! Ah! I have read to the very bottom of her heart; I have not misplaced my benefactions, and I am certain that Frédéric will not blame me." "Well," said Dubourg to himself, "I have done all I could; and even if I should give myself the jaundice trying to separate these two women, I fancy that I shouldn't succeed; I'll just let things take their course, and see what happens. The most that I can do will be to warn Frédéric when he comes home." On the evening after Dubourg's arrival, Constance said to him: "I want you to see what pleasure my unfortunate companion derives from music; when she hears me play and sing, it always seems to me as if she were going to speak." She took Sister Anne's hand and led her to a seat near the piano; the dumb girl was more melancholy than usual; Dubourg's presence had revived all her sorrows; however, she smiled at her benefactress, and did her utmost to appear less downcast. Constance had played several pieces, when she said: