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"There is not," pursued the nephew, in his former tone, "a face I

can look at, in all this country round about us, which looks at

me with any deference on it but the dark deference of fear and

slavery."

"A compliment," said the Marquis, "to the grandeur of the family,

merited by the manner in which the family has sustained its

grandeur. Hah!" And he took another gentle little pinch of snuff,

and lightly crossed his legs.

But, when his nephew, leaning an elbow on the table, covered his

eyes thoughtfully and dejectedly with his hand, the fine mask

looked at him sideways with a stronger concentration of keenness,

closeness, and dislike, than was comportable with its wearer's

assumption of indifference.

"Repression is the only lasting philosophy. The dark deference of

fear and slavery, my friend," observed the Marquis, "will keep

the dogs obedient to the whip, as long as this roof," looking up

to it, "shuts out the sky."