ocket and make drawings on my father's designs. He
spoiled in that way two or three studies a week. He liked my father a
great deal, and promised works and honors to him which never came. The
Emperor was kind, but he had no influence, as mamma said. At that time
I was a little boy. Since then a vague sympathy has remained in me for
that man, who was lacking in genius, but whose mind was affectionate and
beautiful, and who carried through great adventures a simple courage
and a gentle fatalism. Then he is sympathetic to me because he has been
combated and insulted by people who were eager to take his place, and
who had not, as he had, in the depths of their souls, a love for the
people. We have seen them in power since then. Heavens, how ugly
they are! Senator Loyer, for instance, who at your house, in the
smoking-room, filled his pockets with cigars, and invited me to do
likewise. That Loyer is a bad man, harsh to the unfortunate, to the
weak, and to the humble. And Garain, don't you think his mind is
disgusting? Do you remember the first time I dined at your house and we
talked of Napoleon? Your hair, twisted above your neck, and shot through
by a diamond arrow, was adorable. Paul Vence said subtle things. Garain
did not understand. You asked for my opinion."

"It was to make you shine. I was already conceited for you."

"Oh, I never could say a single phrase before people who are so serious.
Yet I had a great desire to say that Napoleon III pleased me more than
Napoleon I; that I thought him more touching; but perhaps that idea
would have produced a bad effect. But I am not so destitute of talent as
to care about politics."

He looked around the room, and at the furniture with familiar
tenderness. He opened a drawer:

"Here are mamma's eye-glasses. How she searched for these eye-glasses!
Now I will show you my room. If it is not in order you must excuse
Madame Fusellier, who is trained to respect my disorder."

The curtains at the windows were down. He did not lift them. After an
hour she drew back the red satin draperies; rays of light dazzled her
eyes and fell on her floating hair. She looked for a mirror and found
only a looking-glass of Venice, dull in its wide ebony border. Rising on
the tips of her toes to see herself in it, she said:

"Is that sombre and far-away spectre I? The women who have looked at
themselves in this glass can not have complimented you on it."

As she was taking pins from the table s