All very bad, very bad!'

`I do not quite understand,' returned the uncle, sipping his coffee. `Dare I ask you to explain?'

`I believe that if you were not in disgrace with the Court, and had not been overshadowed by that cloud for years past, a letter de cachet would have sent me to some fortress indefinitely.'

`It is possible,' said the uncle, with great calmness. `For the honour of the family, I could even resolve to incommode you to that extent. Pray excuse me!'

`I perceive that, happily for me, the Reception of the day before yesterday was, as usual, a cold one,' observed the nephew.

`I would not say happily, my friend,' returned the uncle, with refined politeness; `I would not be sure of that. A good opportunity for consideration, surrounded by the advantages of solitude, might influence your destiny to far greater advantage than you influence it for yourself. But it is useless to discuss the question. I am, as you say, at a disadvantage. These little instruments of correction, these gentle aids to the power and honour of families, these slight favours that might so incommode you, are only to be obtained now by interest and importunity. They are sought by so many, and they are granted (comparatively) to so few! It used not to be so, but France in all such things is changed for the worse. Our not remote ancestors held the right of life and death over the surrounding vulgar. From this room, many such dogs have been taken out to be hanged; in the next room (my bedroom), one fellow, to our knowledge, was poniarded on the spot for professing some insolent delicacy respecting his daughter--his daughter? We have lost many privileges; a new philosophy has become the mode; and the assertion of our station, in these days, might (I do not go so far as to say would, but might) cause us real inconvenience. All very bad, very bad!'

The Marquis took a gentle little pinch of snuff, and shook his head; as elegantly despondent as he could becomingly be of a country still containing himself, that great means of regeneration.

`We have so asserted our station, both in the old time and in the modern time also,' said the nephew, gloomily, `that I believe our name to be more detested than any name in France.'

`Let us hope so,' said the uncle. `Detestation of the high is the involuntary homage of the low.'

`There is not,' pursued the nephew, in his former tone, `a face I can look at, in all this country round about us, which looks at me with any deference on it but the dark deference of fear and slavery.'