2 Small town on the German side of the Rhine, just across from Strasbourg.

"What a happy nature!" he told himself. "How well his riding clothes fit him; how elegantly his hair has been cut. Oh, had I looked like him, perhaps she wouldn't have taken such a dislike to me, after three days of loving me." When the prince had finished off the siege of 1796: "You're looking like a Trappist monk," he said to Julien. "The principles I gave you, in London, should not be applied so rigorously. To seem sorrowful is perhaps not quite in good taste: you're supposed to seem bored. If you're sad, there's something deficient about you, something you haven't yet conquered. "It's a demonstration of inferiority. If you really are bored, on the other hand, this sort of thing would show that whoever's been trying hard to please you is your inferior. Understand me, my dear friend: showing contempt is a serious business." Julien tossed a gold coin to the peasant, who had been listening, his mouth hanging open. "Good," said the prince. "Now that was graceful—a noble disdain! Very good!" And he set his horse to galloping. Julien followed him, overwhelmed by dull, stupefied admiration. "Ah, had I been like him, she wouldn't have preferred de Croisenois!" The more shocked he was by the prince's absurdities, the more he despised himself for not admiring them, and the more miserable he judged himself for not sharing them. Self-loathing can go no further. The prince was aware of Julien's genuine misery. "What's all this, my friend," he said, as they rode back to Strasbourg. "Have you lost your money, or perhaps you've fallen in love with some little actress?" Russians imitate French manners, but they're always fifty years behind. Right now, they've reached the era of Louis XV.3 This fooling with love brought tears to Julien's eyes. "Why shouldn't I turn to this friendly fellow for advice?" he suddenly asked himself. "Yes, yes, old boy," the prince said. "You'll see, when we're back in Strasbourg, that I myself am madly in love, and decidedly rejected. A charming woman, who lives in a nearby city, has dropped me, after three days of passion, and this reversal is killing me." Julien described for the prince, using fictitious names, both Mathilde's actions and her character. "Don't bother going on," said Korasoff. "To give you proper confidence in your physician, I'll finish your intimate tale myself. Either the young woman's husband revels in an immense fortune, or, much more likely, she herself belongs to your country's highest class. She really must have something to be proud of." Julien nodded; he no longer had the courage to speak. "Very good," said the prince. "Here are three rather bitter pills, which you're going to have to take, and without delay: "First, make sure, every single day, that you see Madame. .. what's her name?" "Madame de Dubois."4 "What a name!" said the prince, roaring with laughter. "But, forgive me: for you, it must be sublime. But you have to see Madame de Dubois every day; above all, don't let her think you're being cold or angry. Remember the great principle of this century: be the opposite of what you're expected to be. Let her see you exactly as you were a week before she honored you with her favors." "Ah! Then I was calm," Julien exclaimed despairingly. "I thought I was being sorry for her..."