A breeze, blowing in through a window, stirred the flames of the candles, and their lines of black smoke wavered horizontally through the air.

Monsieur le Marquis waited for the outpouring of thanks, the protestations of joy, the bending of this proud and haughty spirit.

While waiting he did not look at his son; rather he busied himself with the stained ruffles of his sleeve.

The pause grew.

It was so long that the marquis was compelled finally to look up.