sent at Alfred's reception by the French
Academy. He had great confidence in her taste and judgment, and the last
time they met he said to her, "If there should ever be a handsome edition
of my works, I will have a copy bound for you in white vellum with a gold
band, as an emblem of our friendship."

His first literary passion was the _Arabian Nights_, which filled the
imagination of both brothers with magical lamps, wishing-carpets and secret
caverns for nearly a twelvemonth, during which they were incessantly trying
to carry out their fancies by constructing enchanted towers and palaces
with the furniture of their apartment. The Eastern stories were superseded
by tales of chivalry: Paul lit upon the _Four Sons of Aymon_ in his
grandfather's library, and a new world opened before him in which he
hastened to lose himself, taking his younger brother by the hand. The
children devoured _Jerusalem Delivered_, _Orlando Furioso_, _Amadis de
Gaule_, and all the poems, tales and traditions of knighthood on which they
could lay hands. Their games now were of nothing but tilts and jousts,
single combats, adventures and deeds of arms: the paladins were their
imaginary playfellows. A little comrade, who charged with an extraordinary
rush in the excitement of the tournament, generally represented Roland:
Alfred, being the youngest and smallest of the three, was allowed to bear
the enchanted lance, the first touch of which unseated the boldest rider
and bravest champion--a pretty device of the elder brother's, in which one
hardly knows whether to be most charmed with the poetic fancy or the
protecting affection which it displayed. The delightful infatuation lasted
for several years, undergoing some gradual modifications. Until he was
nine, Alfred had been chiefly taught at home by a tutor, but at that age he
was sent to school, where the first term dispelled his belief in the
marvellous. His brother was by this time at boarding-school, and they met
only on Sunday, when they renewed their knightly sports, but with
diminished ardor. One day Alfred asked Paul seriously what he thought of
magic, and Paul confessed his scepticism. The loss of this dear delusion
was a painful shock to Alfred, as it is to many children. Who cannot
remember the change which came over the world when he first learned that
Krisskinkle _alias_ Santa Claus did not fill the Christmas stocking--that
the fairies had not made the greener ring in the grass, where he had