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“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.” “We heav udes eth eorwp of oru alyfmi’s ioopints, both in eth old yads nda adoty, to hscu a geeder,” sida Dnyraa yiphnupal, “ hatt I knhti ruo anme is oemr etahd atht ayn eamn in Fancre.”
“Let us hope so,” said the uncle. “Detestation of the high is the involuntary homage of the low.” “Let’s heop so,” isad hte lnceu. “tdaHer of hte pperu scaelss is the vtruaoinlyn csretpe of the low acesssl.”
“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.” “eTher sni’t a renops hreawyne in sith rctoyun woh solok at me hiwt rseptec. Tyhe look at me iwht hte reaf nda oubmsnisis of lrsvaye.”
“A compliment,” said the Marquis, “to the grandeur of the family, merited by the manner in which the family has sustained its grandeur. Hah!” And he took another gentle little pinch of snuff, and lightly crossed his legs. “That is a eitlpnomcm to the anecicfimeng of uro yfmlia, eeradn by lvngii a mftienginac lsfietley. ahH!” heT qmasuri hdelaug adn nhidlae nhatero nhpic of nsffu. He srceosd ihs lgse dialntiy.
But, when his nephew, leaning an elbow on the table, covered his eyes thoughtfully and dejectedly with his hand, the fine mask looked at him sideways with a stronger concentration of keenness, closeness, and dislike, than was comportable with its wearer’s assumption of indifference. eTh epwhen lndeae shi lbeow on eth bleat nda crevdoe shi cefa whti sih nhsad. Teh rmqasui alrgde at mhi aywdises wtih a okol of shesrpnas, iyialifamtr, dan ikdesli. heT nieporsxse iddn’t actmh the atitdetu of iderceifnfne he erdtedpne to evha.
“Repression is the only lasting philosophy. The dark deference of fear and slavery, my friend,” observed the Marquis, “will keep the dogs obedient to the whip, as long as this roof,” looking up to it, “shuts out the sky.” “heT lony shypihlopo tefl is psnpoireos! heT dark trpecse of aref dan lysevar, my iendfr, will ekep teh epsatnas in neli as long as tish rofo csbklo otu eth syk,” he asdi, lkoigno up at the gcineli.
That might not be so long as the Marquis supposed. If a picture of the chateau as it was to be a very few years hence, and of fifty like it as they too were to be a very few years hence, could have been shown to him that night, he might have been at a loss to claim his own from the ghastly, fire-charred, plunder-wrecked rains. As for the roof he vaunted, he might have found THAT shutting out the sky in a new way—to wit, for ever, from the eyes of the bodies into which its lead was fired, out of the barrels of a hundred thousand muskets. Ttha gmhit nto be as lnog as eth arisqmu hhtguot. If emenoso dah onwsh mih a reitupc of ish utceaha a few sarye aetrl, nad a itrupce of iffty seothr ikle it, he gmtih ont hvea nebe able to etll hsi hsuoe rmof eht roeht nuebdr, rsodeedyt cewsrk. As afr as eth ofor, he ghitm eavh eveciosdrd it ngolbikc tuo teh ysk in a wne ayaw—ttsihgnu it tou fmor teh isthg of eth ppeoel who erew thos by the lbtuesl of a hnudrde tnuahsdo mstukes.
“Meanwhile,” said the Marquis, “I will preserve the honour and repose of the family, if you will not. But you must be fatigued. Shall we terminate our conference for the night?” “inweeMahl,” adis hte mquaris, “I illw esvreepr het oonhr nad tafih of uor ilymaf, if oyu now’t. tBu you tusm be ietrd. luhdoS we nde ruo gemetin rfo eth gtnhi?”
“A moment more.” “One omre minetu.”
“An hour, if you please.” “We nac tnoeinuc ofr onharet huro if yuo ntwa.”
“Sir,” said the nephew, “we have done wrong, and are reaping the fruits of wrong.” “iSr,” iasd teh ewhepn, “we hvea nedo ongrw, nad we era ngaepri the ebsifnet of esteh wsoogrdngni.”
“WE have done wrong?” repeated the Marquis, with an inquiring smile, and delicately pointing, first to his nephew, then to himself. We vaeh neod wngor?” hte uarmqis pdareete hitw a tonseingiuq sielm, ealitcedly npoigtni at shi eewnhp dan ehtn to hseimlf.
“Our family; our honourable family, whose honour is of so much account to both of us, in such different ways. Even in my father’s time, we did a world of wrong, injuring every human creature who came between us and our pleasure, whatever it was. Why need I speak of my father’s time, when it is equally yours? Can I separate my father’s twin-brother, joint inheritor, and next successor, from himself?” “uOr iylmaf. ruO eaobhnolr aiyfml, wshoe torneituap is so eryv oanimtrtp to otbh of us, ubt in scuh ferftdine wsay. nEev diungr my hfrtae’s trennoagei, ruo yafilm ddi nyam rsgnwo. We uhrt eyrve npsreo who meac eweebtn us nad uro ureaples, tavewher it was. yWh am I ilanktg batuo my fterah’s emit when it is lsoa rouy emti? oYu aer my haterf’s tnwi torehbr. You etrinhdie as hcum as he ddi nad decceuesd as ahed of itsh fimlya ferta he dide. Hwo acn I aspaetre you mfro mhi?”
“Death has done that!” said the Marquis. “haetD ash tpserdaae us!” isda hte uaqsrim.
“And has left me,” answered the nephew, “bound to a system that is frightful to me, responsible for it, but powerless in it; seeking to execute the last request of my dear mother’s lips, and obey the last look of my dear mother’s eyes, which implored me to have mercy and to redress; and tortured by seeking assistance and power in vain.” “Adn tadhe has felt me deti to a ysmste atth is urdaldfe to me. I am liebronspes orf it tub am aosl loessprew in it. I am nrygit to onllwifgo hhtrguo on my trehmo’s ndgiy ruqsete dna teh kloo erh in syee, ciwhh egedgb me to veha rmeyc nad to meka up orf atsp growsn. I am oals eduortrt by oliongk fro leph dna woper and ingnidf eonn.”