Frédéric profited by the permission; he went down into a garden, which seemed to be extensive and well kept, and walked about at random, looking for Mademoiselle Constance. He passed the aviary, but she was not there; he turned into an avenue of lindens, at the end of which the ground rose slightly and a winding path led to a sort of platform, where there was a beautiful view. That was presumably what the general called the summer-house, for Constance was sitting there, with a drawing-board on her lap, sketching the lovely valley which could be seen from that point. She did not see Frédéric, because her back was turned to the path leading to the platform, and the young man drew near and leaned over her shoulder without attracting her attention.
"So you have all the talents?" he said. Constance looked up, and at sight of him her eyes expressed the pleasure she felt, while her bosom rose and fell more rapidly. She made a motion as if to lay aside her drawing.
"Go on, I pray you," said Frédéric; "I did not come here to interrupt your studies; on the contrary, I should be glad to join you in them. And, furthermore, your uncle insists that we must remain here several days; so that our presence must not be allowed to disarrange your habits."
"And are you really going to give us the pleasure of keeping you for some days?" said Constance, unsteadily.
"Most assuredly. I cannot believe that my father will refuse his old friend's invitation; he is much too happy with him for that."
"I am afraid, monsieur, that you, not having the same reason to enjoy yourself here, will soon regret the diversions of Paris. We see very few people here; you will surely be bored."
"You judge me very ill, if you think it possible for me to be bored with you."
"Oh! I beg your pardon. I said that—because I was afraid; but if you really love the country and music and drawing and reading, you ought to enjoy yourself here."
Frédéric did not reply at once; he looked closely at Constance, and his heart was oppressed by innumerable conflicting feelings. He saw in her features a face that was still dear to him; he transported himself in his imagination to the little wood by the brook, and a cloud of melancholy darkened his brow. A profound sigh escaped him, and not until several minutes had passed did he answer Constance, as if waking from a dream:
"Yes, I am very fond of the country."