Is it my fault that I must laugh?
The folly of it all is so colossal.

Three years from home, yet there is a woman keeps faithful and holds to a promise given for her.

Come, monsieur, you who have seen the world, you must agree that there is in this something that is passing singular, extravagantly amusing.

My poor little Valerie!" he spluttered through his half-checked mirth, "does she wait for me still?
does she count me still betrothed to her?
And because of that, says 'No' to brother Marius! Death of my life! I shall die of it." "I have a notion that you may, monsieur," rasped Garnache's voice, and with it rasped Garnache's chair upon the boards.

He had risen, and he was confronting his merry host very fiercely, white to the lips, his eyes aflame.