The throng
beginning to thin a little, the count appeared, followed by a servant,
who carried a travelling pelisse lined with rare and valuable fur.
The Count de Commarin looked a good ten years less than his age. His
beard and hair, yet abundant, were scarcely gray. He was tall and
muscular, held himself upright, and carried his head high. His
appearance was noble, his movements easy. His regular features presented
a study to the physiognomist, all expressing easy, careless good
nature, even to the handsome, smiling mouth; but in his eyes flashed the
fiercest and the most arrogant pride. This contrast revealed the secret
of his character. Imbued quite as deeply with aristocratic prejudice
as the Marchioness d'Arlange, he had progressed with his century or at
least appeared to have done so. As fully as the marchioness, he held in
contempt all who were not noble; but his disdain expressed itself in a
different fashion. The marchioness proclaimed her contempt loudly and
coarsely; the count had kept eyes and ears open and had seen and heard
a good deal. She was stupid, and without a shade of common sense. He was
witty and sensible, and possessed enlarged views of life and politics.
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