‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. ‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. The stain upon our family is only half effaced: I have sworn the death of the villain and his bastard, and I will keep my oath. “I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly. Women to me are something so serene, so fine, so feminine, and politics are so dusty, so sordid, so wearisome and quarrelsome.
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