But none came.

The Marquis considered him, strangely silent, a half smile of disdain at the corners of his lips, an ominous hardness in his eyes.
Again Andre-Louis tugged at his friend's sleeve.
"Philippe." Philippe shook him off, and plunged on, fanatically.
"Do you see nothing of the gathering clouds that herald the coming of the storm?
You imagine, perhaps, that these States General summoned by M.Necker, and promised for next year, are to do nothing but devise fresh means of extortion to liquidate the bankruptcy of the State?
You delude yourselves, as you shall find.

The Third Estate, which you despise, will prove itself the preponderating force, and it will find a way to make an end of this canker of privilege that is devouring the vitals of this unfortunate country." M.le Marquis shifted in his chair, and spoke at last.
"You have, monsieur," said he, "a very dangerous gift of eloquence.

And it is of yourself rather than of your subject.

For after all, what do you offer me?
A rechauffe of the dishes served to out-at-elbow enthusiasts in the provincial literary chambers, compounded of the effusions of your Voltaires and Jean-Jacques and such dirty-fingered scribblers.