As Constance knew that Monsieur de Montreville was accustomed, when he was at Montmorency, to go to the pavilion in the garden to read, she lost no time in informing him that a young woman and her son, of whom she had taken charge, were quartered there. The count asked no questions; he was far from suspecting that that young woman was the one he had been seeking so long: he certainly did not expect to find her under his son's roof. On the day after his arrival, the count rose early, as usual, and went into the garden. He walked toward the pavilion, and not until he was about to enter did he remember what Constance had told him the day before. He turned away, and was walking in another direction, when a child came out of the pavilion and ran toward him; in a moment, another person had seized his hand and pressed it to her heart. The Comte de Montreville was surprised beyond expression when he found himself in the presence of the dumb girl and her son. Sister Anne had seen the count from her window as he came toward the pavilion; she recognized him instantly; her protector's features were engraved on her memory. When he turned away, she at once ran after him. The poor girl did her best to express the pleasure she felt at seeing him again; and he was a long while recovering from his amazement. "You here!" he said, at last; "who took you in? Do you know that the young woman who has given you shelter is Frédéric's wife--your seducer's wife?" Sister Anne explained by signs that she did know it, that she had seen Frédéric, and that it was Constance who insisted that she should live in that pavilion. Every instant added to the count's bewilderment. As he could not obtain from the dumb girl all the information he desired, he was intensely anxious to see his son. "Go back to the pavilion," he said to Sister Anne; "you will soon leave it. You have been here only too long. Go, my poor child; I will see you again soon." Sister Anne obeyed; she returned to the pavilion with her son, whom the count could not refrain from embracing tenderly. Frédéric dreaded just what had happened; he trembled lest his father should meet Sister Anne, and was on the point of going to him to tell him the truth, when the count appeared before him; his stern expression announced that it was too late to warn him. "I have just seen the person who is living in the pavilion in the garden," said the count, watching his son closely; "and I am no longer surprised at the depression, the great change, which I have noticed in your wife's whole appearance. Unhappy man! so this is the recompense of her love! of her virtues! You permit the woman you seduced to live under the same roof as your wife!" "I am not to blame in this," said Frédéric; and he told his father how his wife had taken in the dumb girl and her child during his absence; how she had become attached to the unfortunate creature; and everything that had happened on his return.