Then, straightening himself suddenly, with a proud, half scornful air, he looked the officer straight between the eyes.
"You desire my sword, monsieur ?" he inquired.
The musketeer bowed respectfully.
"Saint-Eustache, will you do me the favour to give it to me ?" And while the Chevalier picked up the rapier from the ground where it had been flung, that man waited with an outward calm for which at the moment I admired him, as we must ever admire a tranquil bearing in one smitten by a great adversity.

And than this I can conceive few greater.

He had played for much, and he had lost everything.

Ignominy, degradation, and the block were all that impended for him in this world, and they were very imminent.
He took the sword from the Chevalier.

He held it for a second by the hilt, like one in thought, like one who is resolving upon something, whilst the musketeer awaited his good pleasure with that deference which all gentle minds must accord to the unfortunate.
Still holding his rapier, he raised his eyes for a second and let them rest on me with a grim malevolence.