aintly spirit which, for
fifty years, has shone on Champagne, and to which we owe the vast number
of distinguished and accomplished women who adorn this beautiful region
of our country."

If you know, as I do, madame, what a forlorn, beggarly region Champagne
is, you would say, or something like it, that Sallenauve is a rascally
fellow, and that the passion to enter the legislature makes a man
capable of shocking deceit. Was it worth while, in fact, for a man who
usually respects himself to boldly tell a lie of criminal dimensions,
when a moment later a little unforeseen circumstance occurred which did
more than all the speeches ever uttered to commend him to the sympathy
of the electors?

You told me, madame, that your son Armand found a strong likeness to
the portraits of Danton in our friend Sallenauve; and it seems that the
boy's remark was true, for several persons present who had known the
great revolutionist during his lifetime made the same observation.
Laurent Goussard, who, as I told you in a former letter, was Danton's
friend, was also, in a way, his brother-in-law; for Danton, who was
something of a gallant, had been on close terms for several years with
the miller's sister. Well, the likeness must be striking, for after
dinner, while we were taking our coffee, the worthy Goussard, whose
head was a little warmed by the fumes of wine, came up to Sallenauve
and asked him whether he was certain he had made no mistake about his
father, and could honestly declare that Danton had nothing to do with
his making.

Sallenauve took the matter gaily, and answered arithmetically,--

"Danton died April 5, 1794. To be his son, I must have been born no
later than January, 1795, which would make me forty-four years old
to-day. But the register of my birth, and I somewhat hope my face, make
me out exactly thirty."

"Yes, you are right," said Laurent Goussard; "figures demolish my idea;
but no matter,--we'll vote for you all the same."

I think the man is right; this chance resemblance is likely to have
great weight in the election. You must remember, madame, that, in spite
of the fatal facts which cling about his memory, Danton is not an object
of horror and execration in Arcis, where he was born and brought up. In
the first place time has purged him; his grand character and powerful
intellect remain, and the people are proud of their compatriot. In Arcis
they talk of Danton as in Marseilles they talk of Cannebiere. Fo