did not care for this. He sowed strife and
reaped revenge. This did not stop him, though, for he went calmly on
continuing his executions. His impassibility was only feigned, and this
is the curious side of the story. He suffered keenly from the storms of
hostility which he provoked. He had a kindly disposition at bottom
and tender places in his heart. He was rather given to melancholy and
intensely pessimistic. To relieve his sadness, he gave himself up to
hard work, and he was thoroughly devoted to art. In order to comprehend
this portrait and to see its resemblance, we, who knew our great
Brunetiere, have only to think of him. He, too, was noble, fervent
and combative, and he sought in his exclusive devotion to literature a
diversion from his gloomy pessimism, underneath which was concealed such
kindliness. It seemed with him, too, as though he took a pride in making
a whole crowd of enemies, whilst in reality the discovery of every fresh
adversary caused him great suffering.

When _Lelia_ appeared, the novel was very badly treated in _L'Europe
litteraire_. Planche challenged the writer of the article, a certain
Capo de Feuillide, to a duel. So much for the impassibility of
severe critics. The duel took place, and afterwards there was a
misunderstanding between George Sand and Planche. From that time forth
critics have given up fighting duels for the sake of authors.

About the same time, George Sand made use of Sainte-Beuve as her
confessor. He seemed specially indicated for this function. In the first
place, he looked rather ecclesiastical, and then he had a taste for
secrets, and more particularly for whispered confessions. George Sand
had absolute confidence in him. She considered that he had an almost
angelic nature. In reality, just about that time, the angelic man was
endeavouring to get into the good graces of the wife of his best friend,
and was writing his _Livre d'Amour_, and divulging to the world a
weakness of which he had taken advantage. This certainly was the most
villainous thing a man could do. But then he, too, was in love and was
struggling and praying. George Sand declares her veneration for him, and
she constituted herself his penitent.

She begins her confession by an avowal that must have been difficult for
her. She tells of her intimacy with Merimee, an intimacy which was
of short duration and very unsatisfactory. She had been fascinated by
Merimee's art.

"For about a week," she says, "