No; God forbid, my friend! His grief must be sincere; he must weep much. His woe is one good half of your disguise. SAVERNY. Poor uncle! BRICHANTEAU. He will find it out ere long. SAVERNY. If sorrow has not killed him, then joy will. These shocks are dangerous to such old men. BRICHANTEAU. It must be done! SAVERNY. I cannot bear to hear Him laugh so bitterly, then weep; then keep So still! I hate to see him kiss that coffin. BRICHANTEAU. Yes--a fine coffin with no corpse in it! SAVERNY. But I am dead and bleeding in his heart. The corpse lies there. LAFFEMAS (_coming back_). Alas, the poor old man! His eyes show plainly how he's suffering! BRICHANTEAU (_low to Saverny_). Who is that surly-looking man in black? SAVERNY (_with gesture of ignorance_). Some friend who's living at the castle? BRICHANTEAU (_low_). Crows Are also black and love the smell of death. Keep silence more than ever. 'Tis a face That's treacherous and evil; it would make A madman prudent. [_The Marquis de Nangis re-enters; he is still absorbed in a deep reverie. He walks slowly, does not appear to notice any one, and seats himself upon a bank of turf._ SCENE III _The same._ Marquis de Nangis LAFFEMAS (_approaching The Marquis_). Marquis, we've lost much. He was a rare man; would have comforted Your old age. I mingle my tears with yours. Young, handsome, good, naught more could be desired; Obeying God, respecting women, strong; Just in his actions, sensible in speech, A perfect nobleman, whom all revere! To die so young! Most cruel fate! Alas! [_The Marquis lets his head fall on his hands._ SAVERNY (_low to Brichanteau_). The devil take this funeral discourse! These praises but augment the old man's grief. Console him, you; Show him the other side. BRICHANTEAU (_to Laffemas_). You are mistaken, sir. I was in the Same grade. A bad comrade, this Saverny-- A shiftless fellow, growing worse each day. Courageous! Every man is brave at twenty; His death is nothing much to boast about. LAFFEMAS. A duel! Surely, that is no great crime. [_Banteringly to Brichanteau, pointing to his sword._ You are an officer? BRICHANTEAU (_in the same tone, pointing to Laffemas's wig_). A magistrate? SAVERNY (_low_). Go on! BRICHANTEAU. He was capricious, thankless, and A liar: not worth any real regret. He went to church, but just to ogle girls. He was a gallant, a mere libertine, A fool! SAVERNY (_low_). Good! good! BRICHANTEAU. Intractable and stubborn; Rude to his officers. As to good looks, He had lost his; he limped, had a large wen Upon his eye; from blonde had turned to red, And from round-shouldered had become hump-backed. SAVERNY (_low_). Enough! BRICHANTEAU.