He cast himself down, and the Dowager experienced a faint stirring of surprise that she heard no flop such as must attend the violent falling of so fat a body.

But the next instant, realizing the purpose of his absurd posture, she shrank back with a faint gasp, and her face was mercifully blurred to his sight once more amid the shadows of her chair.

Thus was he spared the look of utter loathing, of unconquerable, irrepressible disgust that leapt into her countenance.
His voice quivered with ridiculous emotion, his little fat red fingers trembled as he outheld them in a theatrical gesture of supplication.
"Never contemplate poverty, madame, until you have discarded me," he implored her.

"Say but that you will, and you shall be lady of Tressan.
All that I have would prove but poor adornment to a beauty such as yours, and I should shrink from offering it you, were it not that, with it all, I can offer you the fondest heart in France.

Marquise--Clotilde, I cast myself humbly at your feet.