He was now a tall fellow of twenty-two, thin, with a wide mouth, and a resolute look. On this particular evening, he wore a shabby wool cardigan; and his shoes were white with dust, for he had come all the way from Villenauxe on foot for the express purpose of seeing Frédéric.

Isidore arrived while they were talking. Madame begged Monsieur to return home, and, for fear of his catching cold, she had sent him his cloak.

“Wait a bit!” said Deslauriers.

And they continued walking from one end to the other of the two bridges which rest on the narrow island formed by the canal and the river.

When they were walking on the side towards Nogent, they had, directly in front of them, a block of houses which leaned a little. At the right the church could be seen behind the wooden watermills, whose sluices had been closed up; and, at the left, the hedges, all along the river bank, formed a boundary for the gardens, which were barely visible. But on the side towards Paris the high road formed a sheer descending line, and the meadows lost themselves in the distance under the mists of the night. Silence reigned along this road, whose stark whiteness clearly showed itself through the surrounding gloom. The odour of damp leaves rose up towards them. The waterfall, where the stream had been diverted from its course a hundred feet away, murmured with that deep soft sound which waves make in the night.

Deslauriers stopped, and said:

“ ‘Tis funny that these good people are sleeping so peacefully! Patience! A new ’89 is in preparation. People are tired of constitutions, charters, evasions, lies! Ah, if I had a newspaper, or a platform, how I would shake up all these things! But, in order to undertake anything whatsoever, one needs money. What a curse it is to be a tavern-keeper’s son, and to waste one’s youth on a quest for bread!”

He hung down his head, bit his lips, and shivered under his threadbare overcoat.

Frédéric flung half his cloak over his friend’s shoulder. They both wrapped themselves up in it; and, with their arms around each other, they walked down the road side by side.

“How do you think I can live over there without you?” said Frédéric. The bitter tone of his friend had brought back his own sadness. “I might have done something if I had a woman who loved me. What are you laughing at? Love is the feeding-ground, and, as it were, the air of genius. Extraordinary emotions produce sublime works. As for seeking the woman of my dreams, I give that up! Besides, if I should ever find her, she will reject me. I belong to the race of the disinherited, and I shall die without knowing whether the treasure within me is of rhinestone or of diamond.”

Somebody’s shadow fell across the road, and at the same time they heard these words:

“Excuse me, gentlemen!”

The person who had uttered them was a little man attired in an ample brown frock-coat, and with a cap under whose peak could be seen a sharp nose.

“Monsieur Roque?” said Frédéric.

“The very man!” returned the voice.

This local gentleman explained his presence by stating that he had come back to inspect the wolf-traps in his garden near the water’s edge.

“And so you are back again in our part of the country? Very good! I ascertained the fact through my little girl. Your health is good, I hope? You are not going away again?”

Then he left them, undoubtedly put off, by Frédéric’s chilly reception.

Madame Moreau, indeed, was not on visiting terms with him. Père Roque lived in peculiar circumstances with his servant-girl, and was held in very low esteem, although he was electoral registrar, and the steward of the Dambreuses’ estate.

“The banker who resides in the Rue dAnjou,” observed Deslauriers. “Do you know what you ought to do, my fine fellow?”

Isidore once more interrupted. He was ordered definitively not to go back without Frédéric. Madame was worried by his absence.

“Well, well, he will go back,” said Deslauriers. “He’s not going to stay out all night.”

And, as soon as the man-servant had disappeared:

“You ought to ask that old chap to introduce you to the Dambreuses. There’s nothing so useful as to be a frequent visitor at a rich man’s house. Since you have a black coat and white gloves, make use of them. You must get yourself into that world. You can introduce me into it later. Just think!—a man worth millions! Do all you can to make him like you, and his wife, too. Become her lover!”

Frédéric exclaimed in protest.

“All I’m saying to you is in the best tradition! Remember Rastignac in the Comédie humaine.8 You will succeed, I have no doubt.”

Frédéric had so much confidence in Deslauriers that he felt shaken, and forgetting Madame Arnoux, or including her in the prediction made with regard to the other woman, he could not keep from smiling.

The clerk added:

“A last piece of advice: pass your examinations. It is always a good thing to have a title added to your name: and, give up your Catholic and Satanic poets, whose philosophy is as old as the twelfth century! Your despair is silly.