that, by using our opportunities wisely, we finally
meet with days which may be called the festivals of morality and
intelligence, days on which, naturally and almost without effort, the
thought of good triumphs?

I do not, however, conceal from myself that, although I may reach
to some reputation as an orator, such a course will never lead to
a ministry, and that it does not bestow that reputation of being a
practical man to which it is now the fashion to sacrifice so much. But
if at arm's length in the tribune I have but little influence, I shall
make my mark at a greater distance. I shall speak as it were from a
window, beyond the close and narrow sphere of parliamentary discussion,
and above the level of its petty passions and its petty interests. This
species of success appears to meet the views of the mysterious paternal
intentions toward me. What they seem to require is that I shall sound
and resound. From that point of view, i' faith, politics have a poetic
side which is not out of keeping with my past life.

Now, to take up your other warning: that of my passion born or to be
born for Madame de l'Estorade. I quote your most judicious deductions
for the purpose of answering them fully.

In 1837, when you left for Italy, Madame de l'Estorade was, you say, in
the flower of her beauty; and the queer, audacious persistence which I
have shown in deriving inspiration from her shows that it has not faded.
Hence, if the evil be not already done, you warn me to be on my guard;
from the admiration of an artist to the adoration of the man there is
but a step, and the history of the late Pygmalion is commended to my
study.

In the first place, learned doctor and mythologian, allow me this
remark. Being on the spot and therefore much better placed than you
to judge of the dangers of the situation, I can assure you that the
principal person concerned does not appear to feel the least anxiety.
Monsieur de l'Estorade quarrels with me for one thing only: he thinks my
visits too few, and my reserve misanthropy.

_Parbleu_! I hear you say, a husband is always the last to know that
his wife is being courted. So be it. But the high renown of Madame de
l'Estorade's virtue, her cold and rather calculating good sense, which
often served to balance the ardent and passionate impetuosity of one you
knew well,--what of that? And will you not grant that motherhood as it
appears in that lady--pushed to a degree of fervor which I might a