The soul then fastens upon absolute nothings.

No longer do ideas or even language speak, but things; and these so loudly, that often a man lets another pay the small attentions--bring a cup of tea, or the sugar to sweeten it--demanded by the woman he loves, fearful of betraying his emotion to eyes that seem to see nothing and yet see all.

Raoul, however, a man indifferent to the eyes of the world, betrayed his passion in his speech and was brilliantly witty.

The company listened to the roar of a discourse inspired by the restraint put upon him; restraint being that which artists cannot endure.

This Rolandic fury, this wit which slashed down all things, using epigram as its weapon, intoxicated Marie and amused the circle around them, as the sight of a bull goaded with banderols amuses the company in a Spanish circus.
"You may kick as you please, but you can't make a solitude about you," whispered Blondet.
The words brought Raoul to his senses, and he ceased to exhibit his irritation to the company.