Well, sire, if I had met with Monk on my way, instead of Monsieur de Beaufort, Monsieur de Retz, or Monsieur le Prince--well, we should have been ruined.

If you engage yourself rashly, sire, you will fall into the talons of this politic soldier.

The casque of Monk, sire, is an iron coffer, in the recesses of which he shuts up his thoughts, and no one has the key of it.

Therefore, near him, or rather before him, I bow, sire, for I have nothing but a velvet cap." "What do you think Monk wishes to do, then ?" "Eh! sire, if I knew that, I would not tell you to mistrust him, for I should be stronger than he; but with him, I am afraid to guess--to guess!--you understand my word ?--for if I thought I had guessed, I should stop at an idea, and, in spite of myself, should pursue that idea.

Since that man has been in power yonder, I am like one of the damned in Dante whose neck Satan has twisted, and who walk forward looking behind them.