As to the poor young nobleman, he resolved not to glance once again at Yolande, lest he should be seized by a sudden transport of rage and do something utterly rash and disgraceful, but kept his eyes fixed, whenever he could, upon his sweet, lovely Isabelle.

The sight of her dear face was balm to his wounded spirit--her love, of which he was now so blissfully sure, consoled him for the openly manifested scorn of the other, and from her he drew strength to go on bravely with his detested part.
It was over at last--the piece was finished--and when de Sigognac tore off his mask, like a man who is suffocating, his companions were alarmed at his altered looks.

He was fairly livid, and let himself fall upon a bench standing near like a lifeless body.

Seeing that he was very faint, Blazius hastened to fetch some wine--his sovereign remedy for every ill--but de Sigognac rejected it, and signed that he wanted water instead.
"A great mistake," said the pedant, shaking his head disapprovingly, "a sad mistake--water is only fit for frogs, and fish, and such-like cold-blooded creatures--it does not do for human beings at all.

Every water-bottle should be labelled,'For external use only.' Why, I should die instantly if so much as a drop of the vile stuff found its way down my throat.