He spent his days in that busy idleness common to all young men who lead "Paris life." And his mother, haughtily severe though she was, seemed to excuse this, as if in her opinion a man of his birth was bound by way of protest to keep apart from official life under a Republic.

However, she no doubt had more intimate, more disturbing reasons for indulgence.

She had nearly lost him when he was only seven, through an attack of brain fever.

At eighteen he had complained of his heart, and the doctors had recommended that he should be treated gently in all respects.

She knew, therefore, what a lie lurked behind his proud demeanour, within his lofty figure, that haughty _facade_ of his race.