"So she has spent, squandered her fortune; and at the age when illusions vanish, she will find herself destitute perhaps!" Monsieur de Merval made no reply, but took his hat. "Are you going to leave me already?" said the count; "I hoped to keep you with me all day." "You are very kind, but it is impossible to-day; I must return to Paris." "But at all events, you will promise to come again to see me?" "I will come next week, if you care to receive me." "I shall count upon you, and long for you as for a sunny day." "Au revoir then, my dear count; we shall meet again soon." Monsieur de Merval shook hands with Monsieur de Brevanne, then left the house, saying to himself: "Poor count! he does not know all even yet! But what would be the use of telling him a thing the knowledge of which could not be agreeable to him, and which perhaps he will never know?" XXV GEORGET'S TORMENTS During the first days that he passed in the country, Georget rose at daybreak and was occupied constantly until the night arrived; he hardly gave himself time to eat his meals. He ran hither and thither from one part of the garden to another; he turned up the earth with the gardener, he felled trees, he gathered wood, wheeled the barrow, cleaned paths, transplanted shrubs, and did it all with so much zeal and vigor that his face was constantly streaming with perspiration. In vain did his mother urge him to take a little rest; he paid no heed to her; and when Monsieur de Brevanne said to him: "Why do you tire yourself so, Georget, for heaven's sake? There is no hurry; I don't want people to kill themselves working, and you will make yourself sick, my friend;" Georget tried to smile as he replied: "Oh, no! monsieur; on the contrary, it does me good to keep busy all the time; it diverts my thoughts and amuses me; it prevents me from thinking of something else too much." "Poor boy!" said the count to himself; "I understand; he does all this to enable him to forget that young woman whom he loved; he is trying to fly from himself; and he has much difficulty in doing so." "Friend Georget, him a squirrel!" said Pongo to Mere Brunoy. "Him no stay a minute in one place. Him no sit down a minute in the shade to rest and talk! So nice when you hot, to rest in the shade! Friend Georget, him melt away with sweating. If him work like that in my country, him die right away in two days!" However, there were times when the young man stopped, compelled to wipe away the perspiration which streamed from his face; at such times he would look about to make sure that he was alone; and when he was certain that no one could see him, he would let his head fall on his breast, and sit for some minutes absorbed in thought; and often great tears would mingle with the perspiration on his cheeks. One evening, Georget went to his mother and asked: "Do you still like it here very much, mamma?"