Sister Anne had a child! Frédéric understood now why his father had acted with so much mystery. He inquired particularly as to the name of the village and the location of the farm at which they had left the dumb girl; then, giving Dumont a handsome present, he enjoined upon him absolute secrecy concerning their interview. Dumont promised not to mention the subject again, and lost himself in conjectures touching the conduct of father and son alike.
After Frédéric had learned that Sister Anne had made him a father, he did not enjoy a moment's repose. The thought haunted him incessantly, and he was consumed by the desire to see his child. His reveries were more frequent, his brow was clouded more often than ever before, and Constance heard him sigh. She dared not question him; but she suffered torments in secret; she flattered herself that she filled Frédéric's heart, that she was the sole object of all his thoughts; but she was always near him, she held his hand in hers, and it could not be she who made him sigh.
When she ventured to ask him what the matter was, he strove to recover himself, pressed her to his heart, and said:
"What more can I possibly desire?"
But, even then, Constance detected a trace of sadness in his smile; he did not seem to her entirely happy.
One day Frédéric told his wife that he was about to undertake the journey which he had postponed so long, but which had become absolutely necessary. Constance had flattered herself that Ménard would go in his stead; indeed, Frédéric himself had suggested it; but he had changed his mind, and was evidently determined to go. Constance dared not try to detain him, or to propose to accompany him; she was afraid of annoying him; she was unwilling to thwart him in the most trivial thing. Moreover, if Frédéric had wanted her to go with him, he would have had but to say the word; she would have left everything to go; but he did not say the word! Constance groaned in secret, but she showed her husband a cloudless brow and a smiling face.
Frédéric embraced her tenderly; he promised to hasten his return, and to be with her again within a month. She tried to be brave; and Frédéric took his departure, commending her to the care of Ménard and Dubourg. But Constance did not need to be entertained: although absent, Frédéric was always with her.
It was the month of August, that lovely season when it is so pleasant to live in the pure air of the country. Constance determined to pass at her country house near Montmorency all the time that her husband was absent. As it was much quieter there than in Paris, it seemed to her that she would be more free to think of him, to count the moments which must pass before his return. Monsieur de Montreville visited his daughter-in-law in the country. But at the count's age a man has settled habits, and amusement becomes a necessity. The count loved Paris, for he had a great number of acquaintances there; and the never-ceasing life and animation of the capital had always attracted him. After a week's stay in the country, he returned to his favorite city and his wonted amusements.
Constance was left alone with Ménard and the servants. It was still early in the quarter, and Dubourg was not in the country; but Constance did not suffer one moment from ennui; when the heart is well occupied, the head is never empty. The old tutor was always ready to bear her company; he talked to her of Greek and Roman history, quoted his favorite Latin authors, and sometimes plunged into Biblical history. It is not certain that Constance was greatly entertained; but when Ménard had finished speaking, she would smile at him so amiably that he was invariably satisfied.
Toward nightfall Constance always went to the summer-house. It was her favorite spot; there she and Frédéric had begun to understand each other, there she had felt the first approach of love. Since that time, she had often visited the summer-house, more often than ever now that she was awaiting her husband's return. From that eminence she could overlook the whole valley and the country round about the walls of her garden.