A hand was placed on his shoulder; and Marechal's affectionate voice
said to him:

"Well! what are you doing here, gesticulating like that?"

Pierre turned round.

Lost in his thoughts he had not heard his friend approaching.

"All our guests have arrived," continued Marechal. "I have only just
been able to leave them and to come to you. I have been seeking you for
more than a quarter of an hour. You are wrong to hide yourself; people
will make remarks. Come toward the house; it is as well to show yourself
a little; people might imagine things which they must not imagine."

"Eh! let them think what they like; what does it matter to me?" said
Pierre, sadly. "My life is a blank."

"Your life may be a blank; but it is your duty not to let any one
perceive it. Imitate the young Spartan, who smiled although the fox,
hidden under his cloak, was gnawing his vitals. Let us avoid ridicule,
my friend. In society there is nothing that provokes laughter more than
a disappointed lover, who rolls his eyes about and looks woe-begone.
And, then, you-see, suffering is a human law; the world is an arena,
life is a conflict. Material obstacles, moral griefs, all hinder and
overwhelm us. We must go on, though, all the same, and fight. Those who
give in are trodden down! Come, pull yourself together!"

"And for whom should I fight now? A moment ago I was making projects,
but I was a fool! All hope and ambition are dead in me."

"Ambition will return, you may be sure! At present you are suffering
from weariness of mind; but your strength will return. As to hope, one
must never despair."

"What can I expect in the future?"

"What? Why, everything! In this world all sorts of things happen!" said
Marechal, gayly. "Who is to prove that the Princess will not be a widow
soon?"

Pierre could not help laughing and said,

"Come, don't talk such nonsense!"

"My dear fellow," concluded Marechal, "in life it is only nonsense that
is common-sense. Come and smoke a cigar."

They traversed several groups of people and bent their steps in the
direction of the chateau. The Prince was advancing toward the terrace,
with an elegantly dressed and beautiful woman on his arm. Savinien, in
the midst of a circle of dandies, was picking the passers-by to pieces
in his easy-going way. Pierre and Marechal came behind these young men
without being noticed.

"Who is that hanging on the arm of our dear Prince?" asked a little fat
man, girt in a white sa