for Paul de Manerville, who, on his side, thought himself astute in
exploiting, after his fashion, his intimate friend. He lived in the
reflecting lustre of his friend, walked constantly under his umbrella,
wore his boots, gilded himself with his rays. When he posed in Henri's
company or walked at his side, he had the air of saying: "Don't insult
us, we are real dogs." He often permitted himself to remark fatuously:
"If I were to ask Henri for such and such a thing, he is a good enough
friend of mine to do it." But he was careful never to ask anything of
him. He feared him, and his fear, although imperceptible, reacted upon
the others, and was of use to De Marsay.

"De Marsay is a man of a thousand," said Paul. "Ah, you will see, he
will be what he likes. I should not be surprised to find him one of
these days Minister of Foreign Affairs. Nothing can withstand him."

He made of De Marsay what Corporal Trim made of his cap, a perpetual
instance.

"Ask De Marsay and you will see!"

Or again:

"The other day we were hunting, De Marsay and I, He would not believe
me, but I jumped a hedge without moving on my horse!"

Or again:

"We were with some women, De Marsay and I, and upon my word of honor,
I was----" etc.