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Show him no quarter, Poll. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction.
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