Who would have thought that any process could possibly have metamorphosed the gay and magnificent courtier, of whose splendid extravagance Dubois had heard so many traditions, into this grotesque old savage.
"There are some houses, and foremost among the number that of Charrebourg," said the young man, with marked deference, raising his hat, "which no loss of revenue can possibly degrade, and which, associated with the early glories of France, gain but a profounder title to our respect, when their annals and descent are consecrated by the nobility of suffering."
Nebuchadnezzar smiled.
"I entreat that Monsieur le Visconte will pardon what has passed under a total ignorance of his presence."
The Visconte bowed, and resumed, gravely but more placidly—
"I must then return to my question, and ask your name."
"I am called Dubois, sir."
"Dubois! hum! I don't recollect, Monsieur Dubois, that I ever had the honor of being acquainted with your family."
"Possibly not, sir."
"However, Monsieur Dubois, you appear to be a gentleman, and I ask you, as the father of the noble young lady who has just left you, whether you have established with her any understanding such as I ought not to approve—in short, any understanding whatsoever?"