"Forgive me!"
At sight of Frédéric, Sister Anne started to rise and fly, but she had not the strength; she fell back on the bench and tried to look the other way, but an irresistible power forced her to turn her eyes upon her lover. He was at her feet, entreating her forgiveness; she had not the courage to repel him; she placed her son in his arms, and soon she was straining him to her heart. At that moment they heard a cry, not far away. Frédéric, disturbed and alarmed, left the arbor and looked in every direction; seeing no one, he returned to Sister Anne. But she was already going back to the pavilion with her son; he tried to detain her; she slipped from his arms, while her eyes bade him an affectionate adieu. She had enjoyed a moment's happiness, but she did not propose to be culpable toward her benefactress by remaining longer with Frédéric.
Sister Anne and the child having returned to the pavilion, Frédéric was alone in the garden; he was still agitated by the pleasure it had afforded him to see his former sweetheart, but that pleasure was mingled with anxiety. The cry he had heard worried him. He searched every part of the garden, but found no one. He persuaded himself that he had made a mistake, that the voice came from the fields. For a moment he thought of his wife. Suppose that Constance had seen him! But he soon rejected that idea, for Constance was asleep when he left his room. He returned to the house. The servants were astir. Dubourg and Ménard came down into the garden. Frédéric dared not go to his wife, but waited till breakfast before seeing her again.
He strolled about the garden with his friends; but he was thoughtful and ill at ease.
"Are you grieving over Sister Anne's approaching departure?" said Dubourg. "I tell you, my dear fellow, it is indispensable. A man can't live under the same roof with his wife and his mistress, even if the latter has ceased to be anything to him; for the wife must always stand in dread of chance meetings and accidents; and if she loves her husband ever so little, she won't sleep peacefully."
"Unquestionably," said Ménard, "one cannot live with the wolf and the lamb. It's as if you should put a canary and a parrot in the same cage; they'll always end by fighting. I don't refer to Madame de Montreville; she's an angel of gentleness; and certainly the other little woman will never talk loud. But, after all: naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret. Furthermore, a Greek philosopher has said: 'Do you want to have hell on earth? if so, live with your wife and your mistress.'"
"But, Monsieur Ménard, far from having any such desire, I wish with all my heart that the poor creature were already far away. I realize too well that I must not rely on my resolutions."
"There's only one thing in the world you can rely on; and that is indigestion, if you bathe right after eating."
The breakfast hour arrived; Constance appeared, and, as usual, went to her husband and kissed him.
"I was mistaken; she knows nothing," said Frédéric to himself.