y in which Borne's mind and manners grated on his
taste:

"To the disgust which, in intercourse with Borne, I was in danger of
feeling toward those who surrounded him, was added the annoyance I
felt from his perpetual talk about politics. Nothing but political
argument, and again political argument, even at table, where he
managed to hunt me out. At dinner, when I so gladly forget all the
vexations of the world, he spoiled the best dishes for me by his
patriotic gall, which he poured as a bitter sauce over everything.
Calf's feet, _a la maitre d'hotel_, then my innocent _bonne bouche_,
he completely spoiled for me by Job's tidings from Germany, which he
scraped together out of the most unreliable newspapers. And then his
accursed remarks, which spoiled one's appetite! . . . This was a sort
of table-talk which did not greatly exhilarate me, and I avenged
myself by affecting an excessive, almost impassioned indifference for
the object of Borne's enthusiasm. For example, Borne was indignant
that immediately on my arrival in Paris I had nothing better to do
than to write for German papers a long account of the Exhibition of
Pictures. I omit all discussion as to whether that interest in Art
which induced me to undertake this work was so utterly irreconcilable
with the revolutionary interests of the day; but Borne saw in it a
proof of my indifference toward the sacred cause of humanity, and I
could in my turn spoil the taste of his patriotic _sauerkraut_ for
him by talking all dinner-time of nothing but pictures, of Robert's
'Reapers,' Horace Vernet's 'Judith,' and Scheffer's 'Faust.' . . .
That I never thought it worth while to discuss my political
principles with him it is needless to say; and once when he declared
that he had found a contradiction in my writings, I satisfied myself
with the ironical answer, 'You are mistaken, _mon cher_; such
contradictions never occur in my works, for always before I begin to
write, I read over the statement of my political principles in my
previous writings, that I may not contradict myself, and that no one
may be able to reproach me with apostasy from my liberal
principles.'"

And here is his own account of the spirit in which the book was written:

"I was never Borne's friend, nor was I ever his enemy. The
displeasure which he could often excit