The younger, on the other hand, put all his own pride into paying such debts.

This rivalry of noble natures in a feeling which leads men often to the jealous ferocity of the beasts amazed the old people who were watching it, and bewildered their ideas.
Such little details often drew tears to the eyes of the countess.
A single sensation, which is perhaps all-powerful in some rare organizations, will give an idea of Laurence's emotions; it may be perceived by recalling the perfect unison of two fine voices (like those of Malibran and Sontag) in some harmonious _duo_, or the blending of two instruments touched by the hand of genius, their melodious tones entering the soul like the passionate sighing of one heart.

Sometimes, seeing the Marquis de Simeuse buried in an arm-chair and glancing from time to time with deepest melancholy at his brother and Laurence who were talking and laughing, the abbe believed him capable of making the great sacrifice; presently, however, the priest would see in the young man's eyes the flash of an unconquerable passion.

Whenever either of the brothers found himself alone with Laurence he might reasonably suppose himself the one preferred.
"I fancy then that there is but one of them," explained the countess to the abbe when he questioned her.

That answer showed the priest her total want of coquetry.