"I am, though; I am no longer 'in the know' of things, as you say, and I don't object to be instructed about certain matters on which I am absolutely ignorant." On taking her seat at table, the marchioness, addressing Jean, continued: "You were saying that the young men who were not precisely the intellectual ones were--" "Oh, I am not good at explanations," he replied. "That does not matter; go on, anyhow." "Well, those who are not really intellectual are of the sickly kind; they act that sort of thing to begin with, and then they end by getting like it in reality; they are intolerably affected, effeminate, crazy, and everything else beside. They set up for being original, and not like anyone else." "Well, and what do you call them?" "I don't exactly know; they are of the complex kind. There's young La Balue, for instance, he's a perfect example for you of this class; you might study him." "That's an idea that has never entered my head; but, in the young generation of to-day, there are others beside these complex ones." "Yes, they are the athletes." "Specimen, Pierrot!"--remarked Henry de Bracieux. The marchioness turned towards her grandson. "Don't be personal," she said. "Continue your little speech, Jean." "I would rather eat my egg in peace, aunt!" "We had got as far as the athletes--" "Well, then, if the complex young men of to-day are a trifle sickening, the athletes are the greatest nuisances under the sun. Boxing, football, bicycles, matches, and records--all that, they consider of the most tremendous and vital importance, not only in their conversation, but, what is more regrettable still, in their lives. In their opinion, a man of worth is the one who can give the hardest blows, or who is endowed with the greatest strength or vigour; all their admiration is bestowed on one single being in the world--_the Champion_, with a capital C." "And what is there between the complex young man and the athletes?" "Nothing; or, at least, some exceptions so rare that they are there simply to confirm the rule. Of course, I am only talking now of the young generation, of the latest--Pierrot's, in fact." "Do leave poor Pierrot in peace!" said Bijou; "you all find fault with him." "Because it is not too late yet for him to put his young self to rights, and if he were to be let alone, he would soon degenerate in the most deplorable manner." "Jean is right," agreed M. de Jonzac; "he can very well afford to give advice to Pierrot, and even to the others, for he is himself highly intellectual and very good at sports." Madame de Bracieux looked at her nephew with a benevolent expression in her eyes: "Your uncle is right, my dear boy, you are the greatest success of the family," she said, and then seeing that Bijou appeared to be examining her cousin curiously, she added: "I am only speaking of the men, of course."