It will be cold soon, and then.

.

.

pouf! To-morrow you will take the gold and balance my accounts." "Yes, Monsieur.

Will Monsieur permit a familiarity by recalling a forbidden subject ?" "Well ?" "Monsieur le Comte de Brissac died last night," solemnly.
"What! of old age ?" ironically.
"Of steel.