On the day following Frédéric's first absence, Monsieur Ménard, having risen early, burst into Dubourg's chamber, crying with a triumphant air:

"I have found it, monsieur le baron; I am certain that I have found it."

"Found what?" said Dubourg, who was just awake; "your receipt for keeping eggs fresh?"

"No; but what it was that charmed monsieur le comte so yesterday; that wonderful place where he passed the day."

"Bah! you say you know where he was?"

"Yes! I would stake my head on it!"

"Tell me, then."

"It was the Château de Bayard, which must be in this neighborhood, in the valley of Grésivaudan."

"The Château de Bayard? Faith! it's quite possible; however, we'll ask him at breakfast."

But Frédéric did not appear at breakfast. Dubourg summoned one of the servants.

"Has our companion gone away already?"

"Yes, monsieur, at daybreak; he took the first horse that was ready, and went off at a gallop."

"Gone again! and left us here, perhaps for the whole day!"

"Hum! I'm very much afraid myself that it's some more modern marvel. However, as we have nothing better to do, let's go and see the ruins of this château, and we can look for Frédéric there; what do you say, Monsieur Ménard?"

"I agree with you perfectly, monsieur le baron; but perhaps we shall do well to carry a pâté or a chicken, for we probably shall not be able to get a dinner at the château."

"You speak like the grammar, Monsieur Ménard; we will provide ourselves with supplies; it may not be very chivalrous, but it is prudent. Besides, we are travelling as amateur troubadours simply; and, however beautiful a view may be, however imposing a ruin, we belong to that class of small-minded mortals who must dine every day. Ah! Monsieur Ménard, we are not romantic! It was very lucky for us that we were not born in the days of Amadis and the four sons of Aymon."

"Faith! that is true, monsieur le baron; for they didn't know how to truffle a chicken in those days, or cook filets de sole au gratin."

"One would hardly suspect that the man who does this is a noble palatine!" cried Ménard.

"Why not, pray?" rejoined Dubourg; "the Princess Nausicaa made her own lye; Augustus's daughters spun their father's robes; Dionysius the Younger was a school teacher at Corinth; the son of Perseus, King of Macedonia, was a carpenter at Rome, as Peter the Great was in Holland; so it doesn't seem to me that I derogate from my rank by making a tent in Dauphiné."

Monsieur Ménard, having nothing to reply, simply bowed, murmuring:

"Variant sententiæ."

At last, our two travellers discovered the ruins of the Château de Bayard, of which only the four towers remain standing; but they did not find Frédéric gazing in veneration upon them.

"Well, do you see him, Monsieur Ménard?" said Dubourg.

"The château?"

"No; Frédéric."

"Not yet, monsieur le baron; but let us sit down and rest; unluckily, I am afraid that this is the last halt that will refresh us much, as our provisions are near the end, and we have only a quarter of a bottle left."

"We shall find plenty of springs, Monsieur Ménard."

"But they won't be like those of Cana in Galilee, monsieur le baron."

"I see, monsieur le baron, that this is our last wing; and I shudder to think of the walk back."

"We'll go into some house—or a mill; there are plenty of those in this region."

"Do you mean that you have any money, monsieur le baron?"

"Not a sou; and you?"

"No more."

"The devil! this becomes embarrassing. Think of Frédéric carrying the cash-box off with him, and leaving us in the lurch, without stopping to think what will become of us! I am aware that we may live on at the inn, where we have an open account; but it isn't pleasant to be tied down to an inn while my gentleman is travelling about the country."

"One thing is certain, monsieur le baron, and that is that walking gives one an appetite."

"Morbleu! I am beginning to find this travelling decidedly monotonous; and if I wasn't afraid of my creditors——"

"Your creditors, monsieur le baron?"

"I mean, if I hadn't the creditors of my government to settle with—that is to say, if—— But, hush! I see somebody—probably people who have come to inspect these ruins. They must live in the neighborhood, for they don't look as if they had taken a long walk."

"It seems that monsieur le baron proposes to lay aside his incognito again," he said to himself. Whereupon, he straightened the ends of his ruff and assumed a more dignified bearing.

Dubourg had replaced by a very simple round hat the shabby tile which had been left for him at the false Marquise de Versac's, but he had retained the little silver tassels on his boots; above all, he had retained the power to impart to his features an expression befitting the part he proposed to play. When he approached the couple examining the ruins, one would have judged from his manners, his voice, his language, and the way in which he looked about, that he was some foreign nobleman.

The gentleman and lady whom Dubourg seemed disposed to join were dressed in a style that indicated comfortable circumstances, but which smelt of the province and of a decided tendency to ostentation. The gentleman, who seemed to be about fifty years old, wore his hair powdered, and carried his hat in his hand in order not to disarrange his carefully curled locks; he had a black coat and trousers, and boots with tops which fell below the calf; he carried a cane, with which he pointed out the various objects of interest to his companion; and one could read on his face extreme self-satisfaction and contentment, heightened by an important air which, doubtless, he felt in duty bound to maintain.

Dubourg walked toward the château, apparently without noticing the strangers further than to bow to them; he made a pretence of continuing his conversation with Ménard, speaking so loudly that he could be heard at some distance.

"This château reminds me of my grandfather's in the neighborhood of Sandomir. You know, my dear Ménard, the one where we endured such a long and bloody siege?"

Ménard opened his eyes as he met Dubourg's, but he instantly replied:

"Yes, monsieur le baron, I know."

"That tower yonder," continued Dubourg, "is very like the one on the western side of my castle of Krapach. I can imagine that I am still in the room where the Prince of Bulgaria slept, when he came to break bread with my father. Ah! my dear Ménard, I hope soon to give you some of that famous tokay I have told you of."

"Tekely's tokay, monsieur le baron?"

"The same; it has been a hundred and twenty-four years in bottle!"

The gentleman and lady heard every word spoken by Dubourg, who kept on toward the château, pretending to examine it, but taking care not to go too far away from them.

At the foot of one of the towers, they found themselves in close proximity to our two travellers, who were just about to enter the ruins. Dubourg stopped, to allow the lady to go first; her husband paid him the same attention, and even bowed low to Ménard. These ceremonies duly performed, they entered into conversation.

"Does monsieur visit our country as an observer?" the husband asked Dubourg.

"Yes, monsieur; I am travelling—for my pleasure—with a friend of mine, the Comte de Montreville, of whom you may have heard, and Monsieur Ménard, a distinguished professor of literature and a Hellenist of the first order, who improvises poetry like an angel—especially at dessert."

The gentleman bowed to Ménard, who looked like an idiot when Dubourg said that he improvised readily, but he was very careful not to contradict him, none the less.

"Do you live in this province, monsieur?" queried Dubourg.

"Yes, monsieur," the lady replied, with a gracious smile. "We live two leagues and a half from here, at Allevard, where my husband bought a superb estate when he retired from the wine trade."

At this point, the gentleman nudged his wife, but she continued, apparently without noticing the hint:

"A trade we carried on for our pleasure, for my husband has always had a very handsome fortune; but one must do something."

"Surely not, monsieur," said the husband, bowing low to Dubourg.—"He's a noble philosopher," he whispered to his wife.

"But since we retired," continued the lady, "we associate with only the best people in the province: the mayor and his clerk, and landowners who are electors—aristocratic people. We lead a delightful life; my husband is almost the lord of the district."

"I certainly am looked upon in that light," added the husband, leaning on his cane. "It was in my power to be sub-prefect; but I should have had to move, and I am attached to my present home. We are so highly considered there! I entertain all the best people at dinner; we cultivate music and the arts—I am learning the violin just now; I have had a cabinet organ sent from Paris. My wife will play it; she has a fine ear."

"Pardieu!" said Dubourg; "talking of ear, Monsieur Ménard here has one of the finest bassos I know? As for myself, I play all instruments."

"Ah! monsieur," said the lady, with a smirk, "what a pleasure it would be to hear you! We have lots of amateur musicians at Allevard: monsieur le maire plays the bass-viol, and one of our neighbors is very strong on the hunting-horn. If monsieur should remain any length of time in this vicinity, we should be charmed to entertain him."

"Faith! madame," rejoined Dubourg, after their exchange of glances had lasted for some minutes, during which the husband contemplated the swallows, "it may be that my friends and I will remain some time at Grenoble. Monsieur le Comte de Montreville has a very pronounced liking for the banks of the Isère, and I am too fond of him to go away without him. We are like Orestes and Pylades, except that we are never seen together; and although we are expected at the court of Sardinia, and I have promised to pass the winter at the court of Bulgaria, it is possible, as I say, that our sojourn in this province may be prolonged for some time;—isn't that so, Monsieur Ménard?"

"I think as you do, monsieur le baron," said Ménard; whereupon the lady whispered to her husband:

"How affable he is for a baron!"

And the husband replied:

"He is affable just because he is a baron."

"Especially," continued Ménard, who had assumed a more important air since he had learned that their new acquaintance was a former dealer in wines, "especially as Monsieur le Comte de Montreville, my pupil, is of an exceedingly romantic turn."

"Ah! he is like me! he is just like me!" said the lady, with a sigh addressed to Dubourg; "I care for nothing but the romantic. I am mad over ghosts and elves—am I not, Monsieur Chambertin?"

"Yes, my wife has always been very fond of spirits," Monsieur Chambertin replied, with a smile.

"True, I had them all the way from twenty-four degrees to seventy."

"If madame should ever come to Poland," said Dubourg, "I trust that she will not fail to pass a few days at my castle of Krapach. She will see phantoms of all colors there; it's not so cheerful a place of residence as my castle at Cracow, but I would not part with it for two millions! And yet, it brings me nothing but snow; but I have my reasons for being attached to it—eh, Monsieur Ménard?"

"Peste! I should say so! a castle where you have entertained——"

"Hush, be still, Ménard; that doesn't interest Monsieur and Madame Chambertin."

"I beg your pardon," said Chambertin, bowing once more; "we are too flattered to make the acquaintance of a Polish nobleman—for I think that monsieur le baron is a Pole?"

"From my birth," replied Dubourg, turning his head away so that Ménard might have an opportunity to say to them in an undertone:

"Monsieur le Baron Ladislas Potoski, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir."

When he heard those titles, the former wine merchant was like one stupefied; he dared not take a step forward or back, while Madame Chambertin twisted her mouth in every conceivable way, and did her utmost to do away with it altogether, in order to seduce the Palatine of Rava.

"Did you come here to see the ruins?" queried Dubourg, after giving his name and titles time to produce their due effect.

"He was a chevalier, wasn't he, my dear?" said Madame Chambertin, in a mincing tone.

"Yes, my love; a chevalier of the time of Louis XIV."

At that, Monsieur Ménard coughed and glanced slyly at Dubourg.

"I like to see antiquities," continued Chambertin, "ancient monuments; they're interesting when one has a certain amount of education. Is monsieur le baron here for the same purpose?"

"Faith! we were in a decidedly bad humor when we met you," said Dubourg; "we walked here from Grenoble, as we were told that it was a short three leagues, and I didn't care to wear out my horses in this mountainous country; but I hoped to find some decent inn hereabout, where we could dine; or at least some means of getting to the nearest village; I offered some peasants as much as six gold pieces to obtain a horse for me, and not one of the knaves moved.—Isn't that so, Ménard?"

"It is quite true, monsieur le baron, that we couldn't find anything at all."

"Ah! my dear," whispered Madame Chambertin to her husband, "what a happy idea! what a chance!"

"Really, Monsieur de Chambertin, you are too kind," replied Dubourg, with a bow.

"He called me De Chambertin!" said the ex-tradesman to his wife.

"I heard him."

"Do you suppose he means to make me a knight?"

"I believe he's quite capable of making you something."

"I am almost tempted to accept your invitation," said Dubourg; "it will afford me the pleasure of becoming better acquainted with some most delightful people.—What do you say, my dear Ménard? Will it make Montreville anxious? Do you think that we might accept Monsieur de Chambertin's invitation to dinner?"

"Yes, certainly we may, monsieur le baron," replied Ménard, who was so excited by the prospect that he took from his pocket the paper napkin in which the carcass of the chicken was wrapped, and wiped his face with it, thinking that it was his handkerchief, and oblivious to the fact that he was besmearing himself with chicken jelly; but Monsieur and Madame Chambertin were in the seventh heaven and saw nothing of all that. To take home with them to dinner a great Polish nobleman, a palatine! who had put a de before monsieur's name, and who made eyes at madame—that was quite enough to turn their heads.

"The cabriolet will never hold four," said madame.

"Faith! let us go," said Dubourg; and he added in an undertone, as he offered the lady his hand: "All the ruins in the world could not prevail against you!"

They left the château, Dubourg with Madame Chambertin on his arm, while her husband ran ahead, and Ménard followed, trying to discover the source of the smell of chicken which pursued him everywhere.

At a turn in the path, they discovered the cabriolet, in charge of a little man of about his master's years, who looked more like a butler than a jockey; beside him was an animal which, judging from its size and ears, was halfway between a horse and an ass. Madame Chambertin entered the carriage with her two guests.

"Give me your nag, Lunel," said Monsieur Chambertin.

"And what am I to do, monsieur?"

"Get up behind the carriage."

"You know very well, monsieur, that I can't hold on there."

"Then you shall walk. The idiot! not to have learned yet to hold on behind a carriage!"

As he spoke, Monsieur Chambertin mounted the beast, and belabored him with his cane in default of a crop.

"Excuse me, if I ride ahead," he called to Dubourg; "but I have some orders to give."

"Oh! no ceremony for us, I beg you, Monsieur de Chambertin!" was the reply.

But the host was already far away; when he heard himself called De Chambertin again, he took the bit in his teeth.

In due time they arrived at Allevard, a pretty village, through which flowed a mountain stream of considerable size that furnished power for a large number of windmills, iron foundries, and factories. Monsieur Chambertin's estate was on the right, just at the entrance to the village; it was a beautiful house, built according to modern ideas, and, as Madame Chambertin said, almost a château.

As they drove into a spacious courtyard shaded by tall lindens, Dubourg secretly felicitated himself on the chance meeting, and began to think that Madame Chambertin still possessed a very attractive figure and very bright eyes. As for Ménard, he had visions of a well-furnished kitchen, and he concluded that a man who owned such a charming estate deserved some consideration, although he was neither baron nor palatine.

Madame Chambertin escorted the strangers into a pretty salon on the ground floor, which looked on a beautiful garden behind the house. Everything indicated wealth, profusion, and absence of taste. There were two clocks on the mantel, another on a console, a fourth on a desk. The furniture was costly, the floor covered with rich rugs, the walls overloaded with pictures, and three chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

"This is my small summer salon," said Madame Chambertin, modestly. "If I had known that I was to have the honor of entertaining monsieur le baron, I would have had my large winter salon thrown open, where three sets can dance a quadrille without interfering with one another."

"Ah! monsieur le baron—to be sure, I did arrange it. My husband wanted to put another clock in this corner, but he can do without it."

"It would be very difficult not to know what time it is here."

"This is rather a tasty rug, don't you think? I have a still finer one in my winter salon. You must use them a great deal in Poland, monsieur le baron?"

"Oh! we have carpets six inches thick in Poland; you sink into them as you walk, just as you do into a feather-bed. I hope to have the honor of sending you a specimen."

"Oh! monsieur le baron!"

At that moment, Monsieur Chambertin appeared, with such guests as he had been able to collect in a hurry, to dine with a great noble at his table. He had found only four persons at liberty: a former village notary and his wife, who were just about to sit down to their own repast, when their neighbor rushed in, greatly excited, and told them of the acquaintances he had made, and that he was to have the honor of entertaining at his house the noble foreigner and the professor of belles-lettres.

At that news, followed by an invitation to dine with the great man, Monsieur Bidault—such was the ex-notary's name—summoned his maid, and said:

"Clear the table, Marianne; put the pâté in the sideboard, the chicken in the pantry, and the fish in the cellar, and keep them all for to-morrow; we dine with my neighbor."

And Madame Bidault ran to her mirror, crying:

"Oh! I'll just put on my nut-brown coat, that's all.—Be sure that the fish is kept where it's cool, Marianne."

"Marianne, do fetch my dress."

Monsieur Chambertin hurried away to seek other guests, urging Monsieur and Madame Bidault not to be late. Poor Marianne, harried on every side, did not know which way to turn: she carried the straw hat to the cellar, and ran to her mistress with the platter of fish in her hand. At last, after twenty minutes of running hither and thither, the husband and wife were in condition to appear before the illustrious stranger. Monsieur Bidault, who had taken to writing poetry since he gave up his office, looked forward with pleasure to a discussion of the poetic art with the man of letters; and Madame Bidault, who prided herself upon having more style than anyone else in the neighborhood, was enchanted to exhibit her savoir vivre before a grand seigneur.

On leaving the Bidaults, Monsieur Chambertin went to the mayor's; but the mayor was in the fields overlooking his laborers, and would not return till evening. Then he hurried to the notary, Bidault's successor; but the notary was hunting, and his wife was in the midst of making preserves, which she could not leave.

So Chambertin burst in upon him, and, having no time to explain himself at length, said hurriedly:

"My dear Fondant, I have a noble palatine, from Poland, at my house; he's going to dine with me; I want you, come! and a man of letters, who's a Hellenist incognito. Make haste! they are distinguished men of the first rank; we dine in half an hour."

And he was gone. He thought that he might perhaps get his friend Frossard, the ironmaster, one of the richest landholders of the neighborhood. He hurried to his house and found him in the act of dining; he had already eaten his soup and beef, when Chambertin entered the dining-room, bathed in perspiration, and called to him from the doorway:

"Stop, Frossard, stop! not another mouthful!"

"What does this mean?" rejoined the ironmaster, holding his long knife in the air over a fat chicken he was preparing to carve; "not another mouthful! I fully expect to have a word to say to the thighs and wings; I won't leave anything but the carcass."

"Stop, I tell you, my friend! you must come to dine with me."

"Not to-day; it's too late, as you see."

"You must."

"I have eaten a third of my dinner already."

"That won't make any difference."

"I am very much afraid it will."

"I have two noblemen to dine with me, one a literary man."

"What do I care?"

"From Poland—Cracow—a baron—a scholar!"

"I want you to have the honor of dining with them."

"So long as I have a good dinner, my dear man, it matters little to me whether I dine with a baron or a miller."

"Come, come, Frossard, my friend, have a little more elevation in your ideas."

"My chicken is getting cold."

"You shall have some delicious hare piqué at my house; I also have a certain pâté de foie gras, which has just been sent to me from Strasbourg."

"Ah! the traitor will succeed in tempting me."

"We will have some of my old pomard, and some of that Saint-Péray you're so fond of."

"It is impossible to resist you."

"Will you come?"

"Yes; but not for your noblemen and your scholars; I don't know anything about them. I'll come for the hare and the pomard, which I know all about."

Monsieur Fondant was the first to arrive; but, being naturally timid, and more embarrassed than usual at the thought of appearing before two strangers, whom he supposed to be princes from the few words his neighbor had let fall, the ex-apothecary remained in the reception-room adjoining the salon where Madame Chambertin was talking with her guests; lacking courage to present himself alone, he waited for the other guests to arrive, so that he might steal in behind them.

"Monsieur le baron," said Chambertin, "I have got together a few friends, who, like myself, are overjoyed to have——"

"Faith! my dear man," said Frossard, dropping into an easy-chair, and interrupting his host without ceremony, "you came just in time; if I had put my knife into the chicken, I wouldn't have left it."

"That dear Frossard must have his joke," said Monsieur Bidault, slapping the ironmaster's leg, while his better half sat very stiffly in a chair facing Dubourg, who, half reclining on a couch, resembled a sultan passing his slaves in review; while Ménard, at a little distance, admired the ironmaster's appearance of robust health and the respectful bearing of Monsieur Fondant, who had seated himself near a window so as to be almost hidden by the curtain.

"If I had known earlier that I was to entertain monsieur le baron," said Chambertin, "I would have arranged a little soirée musicale—a little party; but I flatter myself that I shall be better prepared another time."

"You confuse me, Monsieur de Chambertin. Really, I shall not be able to leave this part of the country; and yet we are expected at the court of Bulgaria—as you know, Monsieur Ménard."

"In truth," continued Dubourg, "I am much pleased with this neighborhood, and the delightful people I meet here make it even more attractive."

At that compliment, everybody rose and bowed; a similar manœuvre was executed behind the curtains.

"But I thought that I saw Monsieur Fondant," said the ironmaster; "what in the deuce has become of him?"

"I am here, monsieur," said the ex-apothecary, in a hoarse voice, showing his face from behind the curtains.

"What are you doing there, a mile away from us all? Come out here, Monsieur Fondant. What's the news from Lyon? what do you hear there?"

Monsieur Fondant blushed to the ears, for he saw that the strangers were looking at him. He drew his handkerchief, blew his nose, moved his chair forward and back, and stammered at last, speaking through his nose to give himself confidence:

"How hot it is to-day!"

Luckily, Madame Chambertin returned, and her presence gave a different turn to the conversation. She had put on a thin muslin waist, trimmed with lace; she wore no hair other than her own, which was not very becoming, but she had donned her diamond ear-rings and a superb pearl necklace, which made her very seductive in the eyes of Dubourg, who went to meet her, and, as he offered her his hand, tenderly squeezed the ends of her fingers; to which she replied by a half-smile accompanied by a stifled sigh.

Lunel, who had donned a short English jacket, in which he resembled a Limousin, announced that dinner was served.

Everybody rose; Dubourg offered his hand to Madame Chambertin, Frossard to Madame Bidault, and the others followed, Monsieur Fondant bringing up the rear.

They passed into a very handsome dining-room, where a sumptuous feast was spread. Ménard observed with satisfaction that there were four hors-d'œuvre, which always indicates a well-arranged dinner. Monsieur le baron was seated between Madame Bidault and Madame Chambertin; but his face was generally turned toward the latter, and the deep flush which from time to time overspread the cheeks of the hostess might have raised a presumption that her illustrious guest was talking to her under the table as well.

Ménard was between Messieurs Bidault and Fondant, the former of whom interlarded his conversation with insipid rhymes, while the other contented himself with filling his neighbor's glass. Ménard turned toward the ex-apothecary more frequently than toward the ex-notary.

About nine o'clock in the evening, they made an effort to adjourn to the salon. Everybody had striven to hold his own with monsieur le baron, some from love of drinking, others for courtesy's sake, so that no one was quite firm on his legs; the ladies alone were able to stand erect, for they rarely lose their heads at table.

Ménard was so comfortable at Monsieur Chambertin's that he would have been glad to sleep there, and Madame Chambertin, who may have had some hidden purpose, tried to detain the young palatine. But he had his reasons for not yielding; and, seeing that his persuasions were of no avail, Monsieur Chambertin ordered Lunel to be ready with the cabriolet to drive monsieur le baron and his friend to Grenoble.

Dubourg took leave of his hosts, promising to return very soon and pass several days with them. This promise allayed their regret at his departure.

"Remember, monsieur le baron, that I rely on your word," said Monsieur Chambertin, with a low bow.

"We shall expect you," added madame, with a glance that said all that was necessary.

Dubourg replied by placing his foot on her husband's foot, which he mistook for hers, and cordially shook hands with his host, calling him his dear friend De Chambertin.

Lunel and the cabriolet were waiting; Dubourg and Ménard took their seats and started for Grenoble.

The swaying of the carriage soon put Ménard to sleep; and Dubourg, having no one else to talk to, communed with himself:

It was very late when they reached Grenoble. Ménard woke up to alight from the carriage. When Dubourg saw old Lunel before him, hat in hand, he instinctively felt in his pockets; but finding nothing in any of them, he put his hand under Lunel's chin and patted his cheek, saying:

"All right, Lunel; good-night, my fine fellow! I am content with you."

Whereupon the old groom turned on his heel, and muttered all the way home:

When Dubourg and Ménard woke on the morning after their dinner at Allevard, Frédéric had been gone a long while.

"We will wait till to-night," said Dubourg, "and then we will speak to him."

"Yes, monsieur le baron," said Ménard; "you will speak to him."

But we have seen that Frédéric remained with Sister Anne very late every day, until he had decided to remain with her altogether. It was four leagues from Grenoble to Vizille; the horse Frédéric took in the morning, at random, went but little better in the evening, although he had rested all day; for inn horses are rarely good saddle horses. So that the beast sometimes took three hours to return from Vizille; and Frédéric did not urge him, for he was not then on his way to Sister Anne.

So that he returned very late, and Dubourg, after playing piquet with Ménard,—it was the only game the ex-tutor knew,—had ended by falling asleep over the cards; for, as neither of them had any money, they could only play on credit, so that the game never became exciting, although Ménard had at his service the King of Prussia's snuff-box, and took a pinch every two or three minutes, to give himself some resemblance to the great Frederick.

Several other days passed in the same way. Dubourg's impatience increased; he was very desirous to return to Allevard, to follow up his conquest, and to play backgammon with the ironmaster. Monsieur Ménard, on his side, was no less desirous to drink some more of Monsieur Chambertin's pomard, and to sit beside Monsieur Fondant, who filled his glass so handily.

But they could not afford to walk to Allevard; it was essential that they should make their appearance there in a style befitting the rank they had assumed; above all things, they must have money in their pockets, if they wished to cut a figure at the card-table. Ménard was not convinced of the necessity of that; but as monsieur le baron thought that it was indispensable, of course he agreed with him.

"So that we absolutely must see Frédéric."

"Parbleu!" said Dubourg; "we'll wait till to-night; and to keep from going to sleep, we'll drink punch all night, if need be; what do you say, Monsieur Ménard?"

"I agree with you entirely, monsieur le baron, provided that we have some cake to go with the punch."

"We will have four cakes; we will play piquet for them, and Frédéric shall pay the bill."

In the evening, a huge bowl of punch was brought, and a plate laden with cakes. They began their game, and drank often to avoid falling asleep, thereby putting themselves to sleep rather earlier than usual. After they had drunk half a bowl each and eaten six or eight tarts and cakes, their heads fell forward.

"I am capot," said Dubourg.

They woke at daybreak, intensely disgusted to have fallen asleep; but, at all events, Frédéric could not have gone away so early, and they would find him at last. Dubourg called and shouted, but no one answered. He went down into the innyard and asked about his friend.

"He didn't come in last night," said the hostler.

"Didn't come in!" cried Dubourg; "are you sure?"

"Yes, monsieur; neither him nor the horse."

"The devil!" ejaculated Dubourg; "this begins to be alarming. To stay out all night—it's very strange."

He went up to tell Ménard, and that gentleman, after reflecting for fifteen minutes, inquired:

"What do you think about it, monsieur le baron?"

"Morbleu! that's what I ask you, Monsieur Ménard?"

"I don't dare to form any opinion, monsieur le baron—that's my opinion."

"It's very much like Brid'oison's."

They passed the day waiting for Frédéric, who did not appear. Dubourg was anxious about his friend, Ménard trembled for his pupil, and the innkeeper would have been disturbed about his horse if he had not had the carriage for security.

The next morning, at daybreak, Dubourg appeared at Ménard's bedside, with his hat on his head, and said:

"Come, we must find Frédéric."

"Let us find him, monsieur le baron."

"To find him, we must look for him."

"That is what I was thinking, monsieur le baron."

"That doesn't seem to prevent your lying quietly in bed."

"My opinion is that we should start at once. That young man has a face and figure so far from commonplace that we must be able to learn which way he went; he can't be lost!"

"We must hope not, for what would monsieur le comte his father say to me?"

"Get up, then, and come with me."

Ménard dressed and breakfasted, and accompanied Dubourg, who ordered saddles placed on two venerable farm horses, which the innkeeper intrusted to them with a bad grace, because their account was beginning to exceed the value of their carriage. At last they were mounted; Ménard warned his companion that he could not ride faster than a walk, and Dubourg replied that when one is making a search he does not travel rapidly.

When they left the inn, they inquired and were told which direction Frédéric had taken. All along the road, people had noticed the young horseman who passed every morning, urging his horse to his utmost speed, and returned very slowly in the evening. Dubourg soon learned beyond question that Frédéric rode to Vizille every day.

"What does he go there for?" queried Dubourg.

"He has probably found some charming view."

"I think it's more likely to be some charming face."

"What! monsieur le baron, you think——"

"For my part, I'll wager that he spends his time looking at the Grande Chartreuse."

"Consider, Monsieur Ménard, that Frédéric is only twenty-one."

"Remember, monsieur le baron, that women have deceived him many times, and that he left Paris to avoid them."

"Is that any reason why he should never love another woman? Indeed, Monsieur Ménard, when a man runs away from a thing, it's because he feels that he couldn't resist it long."

"Joseph fled from Potiphar's wife, monsieur le baron; but it was not for fear of giving way to her."

"Joseph allowed himself to be seduced at last, Monsieur Ménard, for his posterity peopled Canaan."

Arguing thus, they arrived at Vizille. They inquired about Frédéric in the village; but the villagers, being busily employed, had paid little attention to the young man, who had dined at the inn only twice; for we have seen that he dined in the woods on what Sister Anne brought him. They had seen him several times, to be sure, but they had not noticed in which direction he went, or what he did in the village. So Dubourg and his companion left Vizille, knowing little more than when they arrived.

"All is lost!" cried Ménard, from time to time; "my pupil must have been eaten by wolves or killed by highwaymen, or else he has fallen over a precipice while watching a sunset! Poor Frédéric! so gentle, amiable, and well-informed! there is nothing left for me but to weep for you!