Oh, you will see, gentlemen, that even in the wilds we have a little, a very little, which is perhaps not altogether bad.

And so you come from Versailles, De Catinat?
It was built since my day, but how I remember the old life of the court at St.
Germain, before Louis turned serious! Ah, what innocent happy days they were when Madame de Nevailles had to bar the windows of the maids of honour to keep out the king, and we all turned out eight deep on to the grass plot for our morning duel! By Saint Denis, I have not quite forgotten the trick of the wrist yet, and, old as I am, I should be none the worse for a little breather." He strutted in his stately fashion over to where a rapier and dagger hung upon the wall, and began to make passes at the door, darting in and out, warding off imaginary blows with his poniard, and stamping his feet with little cries of "Punto! reverso! stoccata! dritta! mandritta!" and all the jargon of the fencing schools.
Finally he rejoined them, breathing heavily and with his wig awry.
"That was our old exercise," said he.

"Doubtless you young bloods have improved upon it, and yet it was good enough for the Spaniards at Rocroy and at one or two other places which I could mention.

But they still see life at the court, I understand.

There are still love passages and blood lettings.