If Martial had faithfully reported to Mlle.

Blanche all that he heard in the Marquis de Courtornieu's cabinet, he would probably have astonished her a little.
He, himself, if he had sincerely confessed his impressions and his reflections, would have been obliged to admit that he was greatly amazed.
But this unfortunate man, who, in days to come, would be compelled to reproach himself bitterly for the excess of his fanaticism, refused to confess this truth even to himself.

His life was to be spent in defending prejudices which his own reason condemned.
Forced by Mlle.

Blanche's will into the midst of a discussion, he was really disgusted with the ridiculous and intense greediness of M.de Courtornieu's noble guests.
Decorations, fortune, honors, power--they desired everything.
They were satisfied that their pure devotion deserved the most munificent rewards.

It was only the most modest who declared that he would be content with the epaulets of a lieutenant-general.
Many were the recriminations, stinging words, and bitter reproaches.
The Marquis de Courtornieu, who acted as president of the council, was nearly exhausted with exclaiming: "Be calm, gentlemen, be calm! A little moderation, if you please!" "All these men are mad," thought Martial, with difficulty restraining an intense desire to laugh; "they are insane enough to be placed in a mad-house." But he was not obliged to render a report of the _seance_.