That skin to which I cling above everything, because it is, everything considered, the binding of a body which encloses a heart very warm and ready to fight, and, consequently, to live.

Then, I do desire to live: and, in reality, I live much better, more completely, since I have become rich.

Who the devil ever said that money spoiled life?
Upon my soul, it is no such thing, on the contrary, it seems as if I absorbed a double quantity of air and sun.

_Mordioux!_ what will it be then, if I double that fortune; and if, instead of the switch I now hold in my hand, I should ever carry the baton of a marechal?
Then I really don't know if there will be, from that moment, enough of air and sun for me.

In fact, this is not a dream, who the devil would oppose it, if the king made me a marechal, as his father, King Louis XIII., made a duke and constable of Albert de Luynes?
Am I not as brave, and much more intelligent, than that imbecile De Vitry?
Ah! that's exactly what will prevent my advancement: I have too much wit.