He cannot help himself.

Why did I not stick to it that I was an Irelander ?" But, somehow, the answer seemed like an arrow from a bow shot at a venture, entering in between the joints of the marshal's armour.
"Do you think so ?" he said, with some startled anxiety, yet without surprise; "older than at Thrieve?
I do not believe it.

It is impossible.

Why, I grow younger and younger every day.

It has been promised me that I should." And setting his elbow on the sill of the window, Gilles de Retz looked thoughtfully out upon the cool dusk of the rose garden.