The very servants, as they moved the dishes, sobbed aloud; and at last, Momont, who had vainly attempted to carry himself with propriety before the others, utterly gave way, and throwing himself on to a chair in the salon, declared that nothing but violence should separate him from his master.
"It is five-and-fifty years," said he, sobbing, "since I first waited on Monseigneur.

We were boys then, and now we are old men together It is not natural that we should part.

Where he goes, I will go.

I will cling to his carriage, unless they cut me down with swords." No one could rebuke the old man--certainly not the master whom he loved so well; and though they knew that it would be impossible to provide for him, none of them at the moment had the heart to tell him so.
By degrees the daylight faded away, and for the last time, they watched the sun sink down among the cherry trees of Durbelliere, and the Marquis, seated by the window, gazed into the West till not a streak of light was any longer visible; then he felt that the sun of this world had set for him for good and all.

Even though he might live out a few more weary years, even though the cause to which he was attached should be victorious, yet he knew that Durbelliere would be destroyed, and it never could be anything to him how the sun set or rose in any other place.