"Ma foi, but you are changed into a comely well-grown man.
And your mother--she is well, too, I trust." "I thank you, Florimond, she is well," said Marius stiffly.
The Marquis took his hands from his brother's shoulders; his florid, good-natured face smiling ever, as if this were the happiest moment of his life.
"It is good to see France again, my dear Marius," he told his brother.
"I was a fool to have remained away so long.

I am pining to be at Condillac once more." Marius eyeing him, looked in vain for signs of the fever.

He had expected to find a debilitated, emaciated man; instead, he saw a very lusty, healthy, hearty fellow, full of good humour, and seemingly full of strength.

He began to like his purpose less, despite such encouragement as he gathered from the support of Fortunio.

Still, it must be gone through with.
"You wrote us that you had the fever," he said, half inquiringly.
"Pooh! That is naught." And Florimond snapped a strong finger against a stronger thumb.