.

.

up, all of you! You, Vicomte; you, Saumaise! Drink to the marquis, the noble marquis, the pious marquis, who gives to the Church! Drink it, you beggars; drink it, I say!" The sword-blade rang on the table.
"To the marquis!" cried the drunkards in chorus.

They saw nothing; all was dead within, save appetite.
"Ah, that is well! Listen.

All this about you will one day be mine?
Ah! I shall be called Monsieur le Marquis; I shall possess famous chateaux and magnificent hotels?
Fools! 'twas all a lie! I who was am not.