f Don Quixote and the Duc
de Lauzun. Whenever he spoke of the present tense, even en professeur,
he always gave a sigh to the preterite, and an anecdote of Bayard;
whenever he conjugated a verb, he paused to tell me that the favourite
one of his female pupils was je t'aime.

In short, he had tales of his own good fortune, and of other people's
brave exploits, which, without much exaggeration, were almost as long,
and had perhaps as little substance as himself; but the former was his
favourite topic: to hear him, one would have imagined that his face,
in borrowing the sharpness of the needle, had borrowed also its
attraction;--and then the prettiness of Mons. Margot's modesty!

"It is very extraordinary," said he, "very extraordinary, for I have no
time to give myself up to those affairs; it is not, Monsieur, as if I
had your leisure to employ all the little preliminary arts of creating
la belle passion. Non, Monsieur, I go to church, to the play, to the
Tuilleries, for a brief relaxation--and me voila partout accable with
my good fortune. I am not handsome, Monsieur, at least, not very; it
is true, that I have expression, a certain air noble, (my first cousin,
Monsieur, is the Chevalier de Margot) and above all, de l'a me in my
physiognomy; the women love soul, Monsieur--something intellectual and
spiritual always attracts them; yet my success certainly is singular."

"Bah! Monsieur," replied I: "with dignity, expression, and soul! how
could the heart of any French woman resist you? No, you do yourself
injustice. It was said of Caesar, that he was great without an effort;
much more, then, may Monsieur Margot be happy without an exertion."

"Ah, Monsieur!" rejoined the Frenchman, still looking

"As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out As sober Lanesbro' dancing with
the gout."

"Ah, Monsieur, there is a depth and truth in your remarks, worthy of
Montaigne. As it is impossible to account for the caprices of women, so
it is impossible for ourselves to analyze the merit they discover in us;
but, Monsieur, hear me--at the house where I lodge, there is an English
lady en pension. Eh bien, Monsieur, you guess the rest: she has taken a
caprice for me, and this very night she will admit me to her apartment.
She is very handsome,--Ah qu'elle est belle, une jolie petite bouche,
une denture eblouissante, un nez tout afait grec, in fine, quite a
bouton de rose."

I expressed my envy at Monsieur Margot's good fortune, and when