Marquis. And now, sir?
Macaire. The bond that joins us is remarkable and touching.
Marquis. Well, sir?
Macaire (touching him on the breast). You have there thirty thousand francs.
Marquis. Well, sir?
Macaire. I was but thinking of the inequalities of life, my lord: that I who, for all you know, may be the father of your son, should have nothing; and that you who, for all I know, may be the father of mine, should be literally bulging with bank notes. . . . Where do you keep them at night?
Marquis. Under my pillow. I think it rather ingenious.
Macaire. Admirably so! I applaud the device.
Marquis. Well, sir?
Macaire. Do you snuff, my lord?