At sight of Dubourg, Frédéric made a gesture of surprise; a keen observer might even have detected a trace of embarrassment.
"Here I am," said Dubourg; "I have been in Paris only a week."
"Yes, I supposed that you were away. But why this mourning?"
"Ah! my friend, my poor aunt—she is no more!"
At this point, Dubourg drew his handkerchief and blew his nose three or four times.
"Come, come, Dubourg, stop blowing your nose; you know perfectly well that you're not crying."
"Never mind; she was a most respectable old lady: she has left me sixteen hundred francs a year."
"That is something; try not to gamble it away."
"What do you say? Why, écarté is like an emetic to me. But tell me about your love affairs. Do you know, you don't seem to me to look any too wretched for an unhappy lover."
"But I—— Since my father suddenly appeared at Grenoble, where I had gone to find out something about you, I have not been able to see that poor girl, we started for Paris so hurriedly! Since then, he hardly leaves my side. I could write—but who would read my letters? we can't use that method; and I don't know how to communicate with her."