"Let Dr.Brand make a fool of himself, if he pleases.

I'm not bound to do the same." The Chevalier blushed crimson--not with humility this time, but with pride.

He gathered the cards into his pocket, took up his hat, and saying stiffly--"_Monsieur, je vous demande pardon._"-- moved towards the door.
On the threshold he paused, and turning towards me with an air of faded dignity:--"Young gentleman," he said, "_you_ I thank for your politeness." He seemed as if he would have said more--hesitated--became suddenly livid--put his hand to his head, and leaned for support against the wall.
My father was up and beside him in an instant.

We carried rather than led him to the sofa, untied his cravat, and administered the necessary restoratives.

He was all but insensible for some moments.