He was little versed in the manners and tones of that high society in which, somehow, he still seemed an intruder.

But for his great wealth, no doubt, he never would have been admitted within the intimate circle of aristocratic France.

His ancestry was somewhat doubtful and his coat-of-arms unadorned with quarterings.
But little was known of his family or the origin of its wealth; it was only known that his father had suddenly become the late King's dearest friend, and commonly surmised that Deroulede gold had on more than one occasion filled the emptied coffers of the First Gentleman of France.
Deroulede had not sought the present quarrel.

He had merely blundered in that clumsy way of his, which was no doubt a part of the inheritance bequeathed to him by his bourgeois ancestry.
He knew nothing of the little Vicomte's private affairs, still less of his relationship with Adele, but he knew enough of the world and enough of Paris to be acquainted with the lady's reputation.

He hated at all times to speak of women.