Comte d'Orbec having taken his leave, the provost found himself tête-à-tête with the Vicomte de Marmagne. He walked toward him with a joyous countenance, in striking contrast to the melancholy visage with which the other awaited him.
"Well, my dear provost," said Marmagne, to open the conversation, "you seem in extremely good spirits."
"While you, my dear Marmagne," rejoined the provost, "seem sadly depressed."
"Simply because, as you know, my poor D'Estourville, my friends' misfortunes afflict me as keenly as my own."
"Yes, yes, I know your heart," said the provost.
"And when I saw you in such a joyous mood, with your future son-in-law, Comte d'Orbec,—for your daughter's betrothal to him is no longer a secret, and I congratulate you upon it, my dear D'Estourville—"
"You know that I told you long ago that Colombe's hand was promised, my dear Marmagne."
"Yes, but, 'pon honor, I cannot understand how you can consent to part from such a fascinating child."
"Oh! I do not propose to part from her," replied Messire Robert. "My son-in-law, Comte d'Orbec, will bring his whole establishment across the Seine, and will take up his abode at the Grand-Nesle, while I shall spend my unoccupied moments at the Petit."
"My poor friend!" exclaimed Marmagne, shaking his head with an air of profound sadness, and placing one hand upon the provost's arm while with the other he wiped away a tear which did not exist.