"How sweet it is in the grave! Are we not fortunate to be dead?"

During my convalescence Edmee was much more reserved, but no less
attentive. I told her my dreams and learnt from her how far my
recollections were of real events. Without her testimony I should always
have believed that I had dreamt everything. I implored her to let me
keep the ring, and she consented. I ought to have added, to show my
gratitude for all her goodness, that I should keep it as a pledge of
friendship, and not as a sign of our engagement; but such a renunciation
was beyond me.

One day I asked for news of M. de la Marche. It was only to Patience
that I dared to put this question.

"Gone," he answered.

"What! Gone?" I replied. "For long?"

"Forever, please God! I don't know anything about it, for I ask no
questions; but I happened to be in the garden when he took leave of her,
and it was all as cold as a December night. Still, _au revoir_ was
said on both sides, but though Edmee's manner was kind and honest as
it always is, the other had the face of a farmer when he sees frosts
in April. Mauprat, Mauprat, they tell me that you have become a great
student and a genuine good fellow. Remember what I told you; when you
are old there will probably no longer be any titles or estate. Perhaps
you will be called 'Father' Mauprat, as I am called 'Father' Patience,
though I have never been either a priest or a father of a family."

"Well, what are you driving at?"