reply,
singular as it may seem to you, was made so naturally that at first I
thought there must be some mistake, the result, possibly, of confusion
of name. However, before long your oblivious friend was willing to agree
that he studied with you at the college of Tours and also that hew as
the same Monsieur Dorlange who, in 1831 and under quite exceptional
circumstances, carried off the grand prize for sculpture. No doubt
remained in my mind as to his identity. I attributed his want of
memory to the long interruption (of which you yourself told me) in your
intercourse. I think that that interruption wounded him more than you
are aware, and when he seemed to have forgotten your very name, it was
simply a revenge he could not help taking when the occasion offered.

But that was not the real obstacle. Remembering the fraternal intimacy
that once existed between Monsieur Dorlange and yourself, I could not
suppose his wounded feelings inexorable. So, after explaining to him the
nature of the work you wanted him to do, I was about to say a few words
as to the grievance he might have against you, when I suddenly found
myself face to face with an obstacle of a most unexpected nature.

"Monsieur," he said to me, "the importance of the order you wish to give
me, the assurance that no expense should be spared for the grandeur and
perfection of the work, the invitation you convey to me to go to Carrara
and choose the marble and see it excavated, all that is truly a great
piece of good fortune for an artist, and at any other time I should
gladly have accepted it. But at the present moment, without having
actually decided to abandon the career of Art, I am on the point of
entering that of politics. My friends urge me to present myself at
the coming elections, and you will easily see that, if elected, my
parliamentary duties and my initiation into an absolutely new life
would, for a long time at least, preclude my entering with sufficient
absorption of mind into the work you propose to me." And then, after
a pause, he added; "I should have to satisfy a great grief which seeks
consolation from this projected mausoleum. Such grief would, naturally,
be impatient; whereas I should be slow, preoccupied in mind, and
probably hindered. It is therefore better that the proposal should be
made elsewhere; but this will not prevent me from feeling, as I ought,
both gratified and honored by the confidence shown in me."

I thought for a moment of