t, rosy ear... Polish,
Russian, Norwegian?.. from the North certainly; and a pretty song of
those distant lands coming to his lips, the man of the South began
tranquilly to hum:--

O coumtesso gento,
Estelo dou Nord,
Que la neu argento,
Qu' Amour friso en or. {*}

* O pretty countess,
Light of the North,
Which the snow silvers,
And Love curls in gold.

(Frederic Mistral.)

The whole table turned round; they thought him mad. He coloured,
subsided into his plate, and did not issue again except to repulse
vehemently one of the sacred compote-dishes that was handed to him.

"Prunes! again!.. Never in my life!"

This was too much.

A grating of chairs was heard. The academician, Lord Chipendale (?),
the Bonn professor, and other notabilities rose, and left the room as if
protesting.

The Rices followed almost immediately, on see-tog the second
compote-dish rejected as violently as the first.

Neither Rice nor Prunes!.. then what?..

All withdrew; and it was truly glacial, that silent defile of scornful
noses and mouths with their corners disdainfully turned down at the
luckless man, who was left alone in the vast gorgeous dining-room,
engaged in sopping his bread in his wine after the fashion of his
country, crushed beneath the weight of universal disdain.

My friends, let us never despise any one. Contempt is the resource
of parvenus, prigs, ugly folk, and fools; it is the mask behind which
nonentity shelters itself, and sometimes blackguardism; it dispenses
with mind, judgment, and good-will. All humpbacked persons are
contemptuous; all crooked noses wrinkle with disdain when they see a
straight one.

He knew that, this worthy Alpinist. Having passed, by several years, his
"fortieth," that landing on the fourth storey where man discovers and
picks up the magic key which opens life to its recesses, and reveals its
monotonous and deceptive labyrinth; conscious, moreover, of his value,
of the importance of his mission, and of the great name he bore, he
cared nothing for the opinion of such persons as these. He knew that he
need only name himself and cry out "'Tis I..." to change to grovelling
respect those haughty lips; but he found his incognito amusing.

He suffered only at not being able to talk, to make a noise, unbosom
himself, press hands, lean familiarly on shoulders, and call men by
their Christian names. That is what oppressed him on the Rigi-Kulm.