"But I was born a gentleman. My race is as old, my blood as good as yours, monsieur."
From M. le Marquis there was a slight play of eyebrows, a vague, indulgent smile. His dark, liquid eyes looked squarely into the face of M. de Vilmorin.
"You have been deceived in that, I fear."
"Deceived?"
"Your sentiments betray the indiscretion of which madame your mother must have been guilty."
(Book I Chapter III)