"What an admirable thing is Nature," he cried, "and how culpable are men in spoiling it, as they incessantly do, under pretext of amelioration, as though Providence were not more skilful than they!" "Bravo!" answered the other--to whom we will give, for the present, the name of Dubois under which he made himself known to us--"Bravo! Monsieur Émile; I see that you are still as enthusiastic as even at the time when I had the pleasure of first meeting you." "Eh, Monseigneur--Monsieur, I should say--pardon this involuntary slip--do not envy us enthusiasm, we poor devils of artists; enthusiasm is faith, is youth, is hope, perhaps." "God preserve me from such a thought. I admire you, on the contrary--I who, at my time of life, can drink nothing but absinthe." "Bah!" gaily said the painter, "Tomorrow does not exist; it is a myth; let us be merry today. Look, what a brilliant sun; what a magnificent landscape! Will all that not make you more contented with humanity?" "How happy is youth!" said monsieur Dubois; "Everything strikes upon it. Even in the desert, where it runs the imminent risk of dying with hunger." "Allowing that, Monsieur, the man who has lived in Paris on nothing ought not to fear any desert." "That leads us to a question that I wish to ask," answered the other, laughing at the artist's jest. "Let us have the question," said the artist. "Be so good, then, not to attribute to an indiscretion unworthy of me, but only to the lively interest I take in you, the question I propose to ask you." "As to indiscretion with me, sir, you are jesting, no doubt; come, do not fear to ask me. Whatever it may be, I will do my best to answer it satisfactorily." "Since our first rencontre, I have racked my brains to discover the motive which induced you to emigrate here." "Emigrate! Bah, Monsieur; villainous word! To travel, you wish to say, no doubt?" "To travel, let it be, my young friend; I will not quibble with you on an expression that you have a right to regard as 'villainous.'" "Why not tell me frankly that you wish to know my history, Monsieur le Duc?" "Hush; do forget that title!" "To the devil with it; I shall always forget." "I hope not, when I shall have informed you that it is of the last importance that this unlucky title should be ignored by everyone in this country." "That is sufficient; I will not forget myself." "I thank you; now, if I do not abuse your good nature, relate to me the history I so much want to learn; for at Paris we met one another under circumstances of too trivial a character for me even to inform myself of your antecedents, which I do not know why, now interest me more than I can explain to you."