A month afterwards my
signature might have been read at the foot of a _feuilleton_ of fifteen
columns. About the same period of time a fashionable publisher brought
out a volume of tales by me. This was my literary honey-moon. I was
astonished at the number of friends and admirers that rose on every side
of me. I could scarcely restrain myself from parodying Alceste's
phrase,--"Really, Gentlemen, I did not think myself the fellow of
talents I find I am!" But, of all surprises, the human heart finds this
the easiest to grow accustomed to. I soon found it perfectly natural
that people should look upon me as a genius, and I ingenuously
reproached myself for not having sooner made the discovery. Everybody
praised my little book as if it were a masterpiece. I might have made a
volume with the packets of praises sent to me; but I must add, for
truth's sake, that most of my panegyrists took care to slip under the
envelope which covered their letter of praise a volume of their works. I
have kept several of these letters. Here are copies of three of them.
"Sir,--Your appearance among us is an honor in which every
literary man feels he has a share.
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