“Bless my soul! we are all very much alike! In the eyes of men of intelligence what does a little more or a little less nobility amount to?—For my own part, I give you my word that, if you were a duke, I should esteem you no more highly!”
“You are too kind, monsieur le marquis!”
“No, I am frank, that’s all.”
La Thomassinière was wondering how this discussion would take the marquis to the truffled turkey that awaited him, when Monsieur de Cligneval resumed:
“It was about Dalville that I wanted to speak to you in private. That young man allowed himself to be taken in like an idiot.”
“Like an absolute idiot, monsieur le marquis.”
“And he was so conceited, so self-sufficient! He wouldn’t take anybody’s advice; he thought that he knew how to manage his business. It was a pitiable thing!”
“It was, as you say, pitiable.”
“The idea of entrusting all his money to Destival! He must have lost his senses.”
“However that may be, monsieur le marquis, I always come back to my principle—I never forgive a man for allowing himself to be robbed.”