human
A pity, exclaimed the younger St. Maur,
gpt
We can only regret,
human
It is but a wicked little remark, that, returned the Duke.
gpt
My son is of to-day, Monsieur. For him this is a masquerade, interesting, droll. But for us, _mon Dieu_! It is——.
human
Yes, it is,
gpt
Pardon, Duke, said the son, smiling.
human
Once all these things lived for you and for our friend; but as to me—I have only the memory of another’s memory.
gpt
Neatly put! cried Des Illes.
human
Almost a _mot_; as near as men get to it in these degenerate days. Well, well, if wit be dead, wine is not. Let us go now among the old memories of which your son speaks. Come, gentlemen.