We’d be hinting that we were a sound blend of the mischievous and the prudent; that we had enough self-mastery and obedience to have earned the right for occasional moments of unorthodox indulgence.
The king himself was crying. It was only a long time afterwards that Julien had sufficient self-possession to enquire " where were the bones of the Saint that had been sent from Rome to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy" ?