re's
and mine, which nevertheless harmonize so well. It is true we pass many
enjoyable hours during our separations; but none I think pleasanter than
those we spend together.

I had been installed there for three or four days endeavoring to begin
my "Rene d'Argonne," taking up my pen, then laying it aside almost
immediately. The thing would not go. I consoled myself by telling
stories. Chance willed that I should relate one which Nodier had told
me of four young men affiliated with the Company of Jehu, who had been
executed at Bourg in Bresse amid the most dramatic circumstances. One of
these four young men, he who had found the greatest difficulty in dying,
or rather he whom they had the greatest difficulty in killing, was but
nineteen and a half years old.

Alexandre listened to my story with much interest. When I had finished:
"Do you know," said he, "what I should do in your place?"

"What?"

"I should lay aside 'Rene d'Argonne,' which refuses to materialize, and
in its stead I should write 'The Companions of Jehu.'"

"But just think, I have had that other novel in mind for a year or two,
and it is almost finished."

"It never will be since it is not finished now."

"Perhaps you are right, but I shall lose six months regaining my present
vantage-ground."

"Good! In three days you will have written half a volume."

"Then you will help me."

"Yes, for I shall give you two characters."

"Is that all?"

"You are too exacting! The rest is your affair; I am busy with my
'Question d'Argent.'"

"Well, who are your two characters, then?"

"An English gentleman and a French captain."

"Introduce the Englishman first."

"Very well." And Alexandre drew Lord Tanlay's portrait for me.

"Your English gentleman pleases me," said I; "now let us see your French
captain."

"My French captain is a mysterious character, who courts death with all
his might, without being able to accomplish his desire; so that each
time he rushes into mortal danger he performs some brilliant feat which
secures him promotion."

"But why does he wish to get himself killed?"

"Because he is disgusted with life."

"Why is he disgusted with life?"

"Ah! That will be the secret of the book."

"It must be told in the end."

"On the contrary, I, in your place, would not tell it."

"The readers will demand it."

"You will reply that they have only to search for it; you must leave
them something to do, these readers of yours."