"Still, one is not responsible for it. Can one fight against nature?"
"Against nature? Really, Ravil, you must be losing your wits. What do you mean by all this?"
"You are fortunate, too, inasmuch as appearances are in your favour. You are stout, you have rather a shrill voice, and scarcely any beard—"
"And what of that?"
"You don't understand me?"
"No."
"And he calls himself a politician?"
"What the devil do you mean by prating about my shrill voice, my sparse beard, and my political astuteness?"
"Mornand, you make me doubt your sagacity. Think, what did you say to me only day before yesterday concerning the marriage of the young Queen of Spain?"
"Day before yesterday?"