mentioned, we must add _Jeanne_, which dates from 1844, and
the _Maitres Sonneurs_, written in 1853. This, then, completes the
incomparable series, which was the author's _chef-d'oeuvre_, and one of
the finest gems of French literature. This was George Sand's real style,
and the note in literature which was peculiarly her own. She was
well fitted for such writing, both by her natural disposition and by
circumstances. She had lived nearly all her life in the country, and it
was there only that she lived to the full. She made great efforts, but
Paris certainly made her homesick for her beloved Berry. She could
not help sighing when she thought of the ploughed fields, of the
walnut-trees, and of the oxen answering to the voice of the labourers.

"It is no use," she wrote about the same time, "if you are born a
country person, you cannot get used to the noise of cities. It always
seems to me that our mud is beautiful mud, whilst that here makes me
feel sick. I very much prefer my keeper's wit to that of certain of the
visitors here. It seems to me that I am livelier when I have eaten some
of Nannette's wheat-cake than I am after my coffee in Paris. In short,
it appears to me that we are all perfect and charming, that no one could
be more agreeable than we are, and that Parisians are all clowns."(46)

(46) _Correspondance:_ To. Ch. Duvernet, November 12, 1842.

This was said in all sincerity. George Sand was quite indifferent about
all the great events of Parisian life, about social tittle-tattle and
Boulevard gossip. She knew the importance, though, of every episode of
country life, of a sudden fog or of the overflowing of the river. She
knew the place well, too, as she had visited every nook and corner in
all weathers and in every season. She knew all the people; there was
not a house she had not entered, either to visit the sick or to clear
up some piece of business for the inmates. Not only did she like the
country and the country people because she was accustomed to everything
there, but she had something of the nature of these people within her.
She had a certain turn of mind that was peasant-like, her slowness to
take things in, her dislike of speech when thinking, her thoughts taking
the form of "a series of reveries which gave her a sort of tranquil
ecstasy, whether awake or asleep."(47) It does not seem as though there
has ever been such an _ensemble_ of favourable conditions.

(47) See in _Jeanne_ a