"Very good! with ten thousand francs one can live comfortably enough. One can't have such a stable as I had with Monsieur Monléard; but it's better never to have a carriage than to have to give it up. In fact, I don't see why I should cry my eyes out for the dead man. In the first place, I despise men who kill themselves; everyone is entitled to his own opinion, but that's mine. A man should be able to endure the blows of destiny. Do you know where Gustave is now?"
"No, I don't; he intended to leave Paris again."
"That's strange. Formerly, he always told you where he was going; and now that I ask you, you don't know anything about him."
"He said something about Germany, that's all I know."
"On his uncle's business, I suppose?"
"I think so."
"Well, people don't travel forever; he'll return some time, poor Gustave! and we shall meet again. Ah! he had changed tremendously for the better when he came back from Spain; he had acquired ease of manner and refinement, hadn't he?"
"Oh! how angry you make me!—It seems to me, however, that it's more interesting to talk about the living than the dead."
"Everybody isn't consoled as quickly as you."