Everybody has been saying that he looked ill,--that he looked old,--that there must be something wrong with him.

Wrong with a vengeance! So this was the cause of it all: the Marchese Lamberto is in love! Bah!--Bah!!--Bah!!!--( with crescendo expression of disgust).

Poor devil! Well, I was in love once, or fancied myself so.

But then.

I was twenty-five years old.