and turning towards the young man, said, "Well, Catalan,
can't you make up your mind?"

Fernand wiped away the perspiration steaming from his brow,
and slowly entered the arbor, whose shade seemed to restore
somewhat of calmness to his senses, and whose coolness
somewhat of refreshment to his exhausted body.

"Good-day," said he. "You called me, didn't you?" And he
fell, rather than sat down, on one of the seats which
surrounded the table.

"I called you because you were running like a madman, and I
was afraid you would throw yourself into the sea," said
Caderousse, laughing. "Why, when a man has friends, they are
not only to offer him a glass of wine, but, moreover, to
prevent his swallowing three or four pints of water
unnecessarily!"

Fernand gave a groan, which resembled a sob, and dropped his
head into his hands, his elbows leaning on the table.

"Well, Fernand, I must say," said Caderousse, beginning the
conversation, with that brutality of the common people in
which curiosity destroys all diplomacy, "you look uncommonly
like a rejected lover;" and he burst into a hoarse laugh.

"Bah!" said Danglars, "a lad of his make was not born to be
unhappy in love. You are laughing at him, Caderousse."