s (an elderly illustration!), by the contact
of minds. Then the young man probably made researches, put a rough
sketch on paper, and supplied Dumas, as it were, with his "brief." Then
Dumas took the "brief" and wrote the novel. He gave it life, he gave it
the spark (_l'etincelle_); and the story lived and moved.

It is true that he "took his own where he found it," like Molere and that
he took a good deal. In the gallery of an old country-house, on a wet
day, I came once on the "Memoires" of D'Artagnan, where they had lain
since the family bought them in Queen Anne's time. There were our old
friends the Musketeers, and there were many of their adventures, told at
great length and breadth. But how much more vivacious they are in Dumas!
M. About repeats a story of Dumas and his ways of work. He met the great
man at Marseilles, where, indeed, Alexandre chanced to be "on with the
new love" before being completely "off with the old." Dumas picked up M.
About, literally lifted him in his embrace, and carried him off to see a
play which he had written in three days. The play was a success; the
supper was prolonged till three in the morning; M. About was almost
asleep as he walked home, but Dumas was as fresh as if he had just got
out of bed. "Go to sleep, old man," he said: "I, who am only fifty-five,
have three _feuilletons_ to write, which must be posted to-morrow. If I
have time I shall knock up a little piece for Montigny--the idea is
running in my head." So next morning M. About saw the three
_feuilletons_ made up for the post, and another packet addressed to M.
Montigny: it was the play _L'Invitation a la Valse_, a chef-d'oeuvre!
Well, the material had been prepared for Dumas. M. About saw one of his
novels at Marseilles in the chrysalis. It was a stout copy-book full of
paper, composed by a practised hand, on the master's design. Dumas
copied out each little leaf on a big leaf of paper, _en y semant l'esprit
a pleines mains_. This was his method. As a rule, in collaboration, one
man does the work while the other looks on. Is it likely that Dumas
looked on? That was not the manner of Dumas. "Mirecourt and others," M.
About says, "have wept crocodile tears for the collaborators, the victims
of his glory and his talent. But it is difficult to lament over the
survivors (1884). The master neither took their money--for they are
rich, nor their fame--for they are celebrated, nor their merit--for they
had a