"It makes you angry," said Pier, "but why? I am laughing at your anger and not at the goodman's lack of ceremony. Didn't I promise to help the people of the house in every way? I happen to be here; he asks me for his great-coat; he is old, infirm, foolish--three reasons why I should take pity on him. And why should I despise him, pray?" "Because he despises you!" "According to your ideas, but not according to his conception of the things of this world. He is an old devotee, formerly a great rake. In the old days he seduced the daughters of the common people; to-day he bestows alms on the poor mothers. God will forgive him for his early sins, beyond any doubt. Why should I be more straitlaced than the good Lord! I tell you that the differences which social customs create among men are neither so important nor so real as you think, my child. They are all disappearing little by little, and if those who are inordinately sensitive would be a little less stiff, all those barriers would soon be nothing but empty words. For my part I laugh at those who consider themselves so much better than I am, and I never lose my temper. It is not in any man's power to humiliate me, so long as I am at peace with my conscience." "Do you know, father, that you are invited to dine with the Marquis della Serra on the day after to-morrow?" "Yes, that is understood," replied Pier-Angelo, coolly. "I accepted this invitation because he is not tiresome like most of the great nobles. Ah! what a price some of them would have to pay me to induce me to pass a couple of hours with them! But the marquis is a man of intellect. Do you mean to go there with me? Don't accept unless you choose, Michel; do you understand? You must not stand on ceremony with any one if you wish to retain your openness of heart." There was evidently a wide difference between Pier-Angelo's idea of the honor conferred upon him by such an invitation and the idea that Michel had conjured up of his triumphal entrance into society. Intoxicated at first by what had seemed to him to be love on the part of the princess; then bewildered by the amiability of the marquis, which tended to diminish the force of the portent, but did not explain it; and, lastly, irritated by the insolence of the man in the great-coat, he did not know which way to turn. His theories concerning the victories of talent fell to the ground before the heedless simplicity of his father, who accepted everything--homage and disdain--with placid gratitude or satirical amusement.