“Let us go!”

And they went to Clotilde’s, very worthy herself of the friendship of these two excellent fellows.

There they were received with marked consideration, even by Mademoiselle Julia, who seemed to feel, to a certain degree, the prestige of these superior natures.  Both had, moreover, in their manners and language an elegant correctness that apparently satisfied the child’s delicate taste and her artistic instincts.

During the early period of her mourning, Julia’s disposition had assumed a somewhat shy and somber cast; when her mother received visitors, she left the parlor abruptly, and went to lock herself up in her own room, not, however, without manifesting toward the indiscreet guests a haughty displeasure.  Cousin Pierre and his friend had alone the privilege of a kindly greeting; she even deigned to leave her apartment and come and join them at her mother’s side when she knew that they were there.

Clotilde had therefore good reasons to believe that her preference for Monsieur de Lucan would obtain her daughter’s approbation; she unfortunately had better ones still to doubt that Monsieur de Lucan’s disposition corresponded with her own.  Not only, indeed, had he always maintained toward her the terms of the most reserved friendship, but, since she had been a widow, that reserve had become perceptibly aggravated.  Lucan’s visits became fewer and briefer; he even seemed to take particular care in avoiding all occasions of finding himself alone with Clotilde, as if he had penetrated her secret feelings, and had affected to discourage them.  Such were the sadly significant symptoms which Clotilde had communicated in confidence to her mother.

On the very day when the baroness was receiving this unpleasant information at the residence of her daughter, a conversation was taking place upon the same subject between the Count de Moras and George de Lucan, in the latter’s apartment.  They had taken together, during the forenoon a ride through the Bois, and Lucan had shown himself even more silent than usual.  At the moment of parting: 

“Apropos, Pierre,” he said, “I am tired of Paris; I am going to travel.”

“Going to travel!  Where on earth?”

“I am going to Sweden.  I have always wished to see Sweden.”

“What a singular thing!  Will you be gone long?”

“Two or three months.”

“When do you expect to leave?”

“To-morrow.”

“Alone?”

“Entirely so.  I’ll see you again at the club, to-night, won’t I?”

The strange reserve of this dialogue left upon the mind of Monsieur de Moras an impression of surprise and uneasiness.  He was unable to withstand the feeling, and two hours later he returned to Lucan’s.  As he went in, preparations for traveling greeted his eyes on all sides.  Lucan was engaged writing in his study.

“Now, my dear fellow!” said the count to him, “if I am impertinent, say so frankly and at once; but this sudden and hurried voyage doesn’t look like anything.  Seriously, what is the matter?  Are you going to fight a duel outside the frontier?”: