"No, one is enough; I am not ambitious, you see. But you have just said that you don’t know Auvergne; here’s a superb opportunity to become acquainted with it. I take you with me to see my property; I compel you to agree that I have made a fine purchase; and you give me some advice as to establishing my household, you teach me to hunt. We will give fêtes, which you will arrange and manage.—Well! what do you say to it? don’t you like the scheme?"
"Faith! I should like well enough to go to Auvergne; but I remember that I am to take a little trip this summer through Switzerland with Edouard; our plans are all laid."
"Instead of going to Switzerland, you may as well come to Auvergne, which is the Switzerland of France; you will see mountains and snow there as well as in Switzerland, and we will take Edouard with us."
"The deuce! do you propose to take everybody?"
"No, but I should like to take Edouard, because he’s a poet, and a poet is often useful, especially when a person means, as I do, to give banquets, entertain ladies and be gallant."
"Ah! I understand; you want Edouard to go, in order to write occasional verses?"
"He will do only what he pleases; but it seems to me that an author, a poet, should not be sorry to visit a picturesque region—a country where there are cliffs and precipices. He will procure material for ten plays! Snow, mountains, torrents—there’s nothing like them to inspire genius. I am sure that Edouard will write a poem about my château, or a tragedy which he will call La Roche-Noire.—Urge him to come, Alfred, I beseech you."
"I promise to suggest it to him, and if he agrees, it’s a bargain; we will go with you and install you in your château."
Robineau left Alfred, in order to attend to the preparations for his departure. Alfred, as he reflected on the proposal that had been made to him, concluded that the trip to Auvergne might furnish him with frequent opportunities for amusement; indeed the bare idea of seeing the Château de la Roche-Noire and Robineau playing the grand seigneur was most diverting; and as he and Edouard had formed the plan of going to Switzerland solely to obtain a brief respite from the fatiguing life and dissipations of Paris, he thought that his friend, like himself, would be inclined to accept Robineau’s invitation.
It rarely happened that Edouard and Alfred passed more than two days without meeting. Although they had not precisely the same tastes and the same temperament, they were fond of each other and suited each other. The sympathy that draws two persons together is not always born of similarity of temper and mental characteristics. We see gayety attached to melancholy; and the gravest and most sedate persons seek the company of the most inveterate jokers and find enjoyment with the greatest buffoons. The sluggish nature requires something to rouse it; the mind needs contrasts. How many people there are who are contented only with those with whom they are forever disputing! Two persons may be congenial without loving each other; to inspire the latter sentiment, there must be in the bottom of the heart, despite external differences, that secret sympathy which we feel but cannot define.