La constanza teranna del core.
This song, overflowing with arrogance, merry fanfaronade, indifference, and egoism, enchanted him.
On the other hand, to his psalm-singing comrades, this merry and swaggering music seemed worthy of the greatest contempt.
In the farewell banquet which Quentin gave to his four or five companions, and to the Italian professor, there were several toasts.
“I am not a Protestant,” said Quentin at the last, somewhat befuddled with whiskey, “nor am I a Catholic. I am a Horatian. I believe in the wine of Falernus, and in Cécube and his wines of Calais. I also believe that we mortals must leave the task of calming the winds to the gods.”
After this important declaration, nothing more is known, except the fact that the diners all fell asleep.
CHAPTER IV
BLUE EYES, BLACK EYES
“SEE here, Quentin,” said his mother, “you ought to go and call on the Marquis.”
“Very well,” Quentin answered, “must I go today?”
“You’d better.”