I seek his company; I strive to imitate him, and certainly he is not aware how much influence he has over me.
All are attentive while he says that he is thinking of organizing a young people's association in Viviers.

Then he speaks to me, "The farther I go the more I perceive that all men are afflicted with short sight.

They do not see, nor can they see, beyond the end of their noses." "Yes," say I.
My reply seems rather scanty, and the silence which follows repeats it mercilessly.

It seems so to him, too, no doubt, for he engages other interlocutors, and I feel myself redden in the darkness of Brisbille's cavern.
Crillon is arguing with Brisbille on the matter of the recent renovation of an old hat, which they keep handing to each other and examine ardently.

Crillon is sitting, but he keeps his eyes on it.
Heart and soul he applies himself to the debate.