"Poor child! what a guilty wretch he was to desert you!"
For several minutes everybody was silent. Constance resorted to her usual method of allaying the young mother's suffering: she took little Frédéric in her arms and carried him to her. She looked up gratefully at her benefactress, and, having covered her son with kisses, rose and prepared to go to her room.
Constance insisted on accompanying her to the pavilion; there she left her, after urging her anew to be brave.
"Your troubles will come to an end before long, I hope," she said. "Yes, your seducer will certainly return to sentiments more worthy of the man you love; he cannot have forgotten you entirely. Dubourg may not be accurately informed. Dry your tears; some day you will see him again; and how can he ever leave you after you put this darling boy in his arms?"
These comforting words went to Sister Anne's heart; she welcomed the soothing hope that Constance held out to her, and parted from her somewhat less unhappy. Madame de Montreville returned slowly to her apartment; the sight of the suffering of the woman she had saved from want made her sad; Frédéric was not there to divert her thoughts and make her forget everything but her own happiness; she had never been separated from him for so long a time, and his absence tended to increase her melancholy.
Ménard had retired, after saying to Dubourg:
"This has been rather a tempestuous day."
"Ah!" was the reply; "I apprehend a much more violent storm! If that young woman fainted simply because she heard the ballad that Frédéric used to sing to her, what will happen to her when she sees him again, and when she learns that he is another woman's husband? I tell you, Monsieur Ménard, I can't think of anything else!"
"I can well believe it; it has taken away my appetite!"
"Let us try to ward off that catastrophe."