Never have I seen in so small a space so many muskets, pistols, swords, sabres, and foils.
One might have imagined himself in a fencing master's arsenal." The weapon used by Widow Lerouge's assassin naturally recurred to the old fellow's memory.
"The viscount," said Noel, speaking slowly, "was half lying on a divan when I entered.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket and loose trousers of the same material, and had around his neck an immense white silk scarf.
I do not cherish any resentment against this young man; he has never to his knowledge injured me: he was in ignorance of our father's crime; I am therefore able to speak of him with justice.

He is handsome, bears himself well, and nobly carries the name which does not belong to him.
He is about my height, of the same dark complexion, and would resemble me, perhaps, if he did not wear a beard.

Only he looks five or six years younger; but this is readily explained, he has neither worked, struggled, nor suffered.

He is one of the fortunate ones who arrive without having to start, or who traverse life's road on such soft cushions that they are never injured by the jolting of their carriage.
On seeing me, he arose and saluted me graciously." "You must have been dreadfully excited," remarked old Tabaret.
"Less than I am at this moment.