esence
was not desirable. She knew that the Baron only needed a pretext to
interfere, and was anxious to avoid offering him a chance.

Felix, seeing her glance bent downwards or towards her companion, and
never all the time turned to him, not unnaturally, but too hastily,
concluded that she had been dazzled by Durand and the possibility of an
alliance with his powerful family. He was discarded, worthless, and of
no account; he had nothing but his sword; nay, he had not a sword, he
was only an archer, a footman. Angry, jealous, and burning with inward
annoyance, despising himself since all others despised him, scarce able
to remain at the table, Felix was almost beside himself, and did not
answer nor heed the remarks of the gentlemen sitting by him, who put him
down as an ill-bred churl.

For the form's sake, indeed, he put his lips to the double-handled cup
of fine ale, which continually circulated round the table, and was never
allowed to be put down; one servant had nothing else to do but to see
that its progress never stopped. But he drank nothing, and ate nothing;
he could not swallow. How visionary, how weak and feeble now seemed the
wild scheme of the canoe and his proposed voyage! Even should it
succeed, years must elapse before he could accomplish anything
substantial; while here were men who really had what he could only think
of or imagine.

The silver chain or sword-belt of Durand (the sword and the dagger were
not worn at the banquet, nor in the house, they were received by the
marshal, and deposited in his care, a precaution against quarrelling),
solid silver links passing over his shoulder, were real actual things.
All the magnificence that he could call up by the exercise of his
imagination, was but imagination; a dream no more to be seen by others
than the air itself.

The dinner went on, and the talk became more noisy. The trout, the
chicken, the thyme lamb (trapped on the hills by the shepherds), the
plover eggs, the sirloin, the pastry (the Baroness superintended the
making of it herself), all the profusion of the table, rather set him
against food than tempted him. Nor could he drink the tiny drop, as it
were, of ancient brandy, sent round to each guest at the conclusion,
precious as liquid gold, for it had been handed down from the ancients,
and when once the cask was empty it could not be re-filled.

The dessert, the strawberries, the nuts and walnuts, carefully preserved
with a little salt,