His wrath was such, that, when he found he could do nothing by abuse, he passed at once to jeering.

"But no," he continued, "you are great, you are noble, you are generous; you are acting after the most approved pattern of chivalry, viscount, I should say, my dear M.Gerdy; after the fashion of Plutarch's time! So you give up my name and my fortune, and you leave me.

You will shake the dust from your shoes upon the threshold of my house; and you will go out into the world.

I see only one difficulty in your way.

How do you expect to live, my stoic philosopher?
Have you a trade at your fingers' ends, like Jean Jacques Rousseau's Emile?
Or, worthy M.Gerdy, have you learned economy from the four thousand francs a month I allow you for waxing your moustache?
Perhaps you have made money on the Bourse! Then my name must have seemed very burdensome to you to bear, since you so eagerly introduced it into such a place! Has dirt, then, so great an attraction for you that you must jump from your carriage so quickly?
Say, rather, that the company of my friends embarrasses you, and that you are anxious to go where you will be among your equals." "I am very wretched, sir," replied Albert to this avalanche of insults, "and you would crush me!" "You wretched! Well, whose fault is it?
But let us get back to my question.