I
replied with a careless, indifferent, plebeian air, as if noble titles
were nothing in my opinion,--"The Duchess de ----! Gracious me! I never
see her, and I could not tell you for the life of me whether she is my
aunt or my cousin. Her drawing-room is the stupidest place on earth.
They played whist there at two cents a point. Every door was wadded to
keep draughts and ideas out. I long ago ceased to go there, and now I
would not dare show my face again."
"Admirable! The Provinces are not devoid of sprightliness!" dryly
replied Madame Emile de Girardin.
That was enough. I was weighed in the balance and found sadly wanting by
an ill-natured remark _plus_ and a duchess _minus_. Fifteen minutes
afterwards we took leave of Madame de Girardin. She gave Monsieur Jules
Sandeau a fraternal and virile shake of the hand in the English style; I
received only a very cold and very dry nod, which was as much as to
say,--"You are an ill-bred fellow and a fool; I have no fancy for you;
return here as rarely as possible."
Soon after this memorable evening, Monsieur Jules Sandeau's friendly
offices acquainted literary circles that a young man of the best
society, devoted to literature, the author of some remarkable sketches
in the newspapers and reviews, was about to appear as the literary
critic of "L'Assemblee Nationale," the well-known dally newspaper, which
has been since suppressed by the government.
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