"Yes, but he does not require me to walk with you, when I can be of no use to you. He has no right over my actions, except in so far as he gives me a right over yours. When he intrusted to me a part of his authority, it was quite natural that he should prescribe the manner in which he wished me to exercise it. Now that he intrusts nothing to me, of what have I to render him an account?"

"As to that," said Armand, "I do not know what should prevent my going out by myself."

"No one in the world will hinder you. You are as free as the air."

"The proof that I am not so," replied Armand carelessly,—"the proof that this is all a fairy tale, is, that I am still with you, M. l'Abbé."

"Not at all," said the Abbé calmly, "it is your father's wish that I should give you lessons, as long as you are disposed to take them, but this does not bind you to anything: it is also his wish, that as long as I remain with him, I should share the apartment which he gives you; he has a right to do what he pleases with it, and I have a right to comply with his wishes if I choose to do so. As to the rest, you can do in it whatever you think best, provided you do not annoy me, for in that case, I shall exercise the right of the strongest, and endeavour to prevent you. With this exception, you may go out or you may remain, just as you please; it is all the same to me. I shall see you do the things which I have heretofore forbidden, without troubling myself in the slightest degree. And if you wish that we should not speak to each other, or even look at each other, I do not ask for anything better: that will be exceedingly convenient to me."

"Why, M. l'Abbé, you are carrying things to extremes!"

"Not in the least, everything is quite natural. What interest would you have me take in your conduct, when I am not responsible for it?"

"I thought you had more friendship for me."

"I have as much as I can have. Are you of any use to me? Can I talk to you as to a friend, of the books which I read, and which you would not understand? Can I speak to you of the ideas which interest me? You, whom a serious book sends to sleep, and who feel no interest in history, except for its battles? Can you render me any service? Can I rely on you, in any case in which I may stand in need of good advice, or useful aid?"

"So, I perceive that people are loved only when they can be useful. This truly is admirable morality and friendship!"