Dalville dreamed a little of the fair Athalie, a little of the young milkmaid, a little of Madame Destival, also of some other persons; like one who has no exclusive sentiment in his heart, but allows himself to be led by all the sensations, all the illusions, all the whims of his imagination. He rose without any well-defined plan of operations, without a determination to be more virtuous or more enterprising, without any intention of beginning a new intrigue. Chance should decide, he would act as circumstances might suggest, he would obey the dictates of his heart, or rather of pleasure. For a heedless fellow, that line of conduct was not devoid of wisdom; if to abandon oneself to the course of events, to lay no plans in advance, but to seize on the wing every opportunity to be happy--if that is heedlessness, it bears a strong resemblance to philosophy; in which there is nothing surprising, since extremes meet. Bertrand had risen before dawn, always ready to carry out his master's orders, even when he did not approve of his conduct. The ex-corporal was well pleased with his repast of the preceding night, because the beaune was not spared, and Baptiste and Tony and the tall lackeys, while drinking with him, listened with respectful attention to his stories of his campaigns. He was walking on the terrace, ready to give Monsieur Destival a lesson in the manual, and perfectly reconciled to the life that people lead in the country. The petite-maîtresse, whose head was as light as her heart, had risen very early, before her husband was awake. She had slept badly; innumerable thoughts crowded into her mind, but the principal one was as always the desire to attract, to make a sensation; that was the fixed point about which her other sentiments revolved by the force of gravitation, without disturbing the course of the planet whose satellites they were.