"You have seen my son?" asked the marquis, when the door closed.
"You ought to be proud of such a son, Monsieur."
The marquis was a bit disconcerted. "I know him well. Do you think he will become great and respected?"
"He has already become respected." She was vaguely distressed and puzzled.
"But will he become great?"
"That is for God to decide."
"Of what consists greatness?"
"It is greatness to forgive."
The marquis turned his head away. He was chagrined. "Monsieur le Comte will never become great then. He will never forgive me for being his father."
"Ah, Monsieur, I do not like that tone of yours. There have been words between you, and you are not forgiving. Do you not love your son?"