admission of her admirer's feeling. Though I subsequently ascertained
that Paul de Musset's story was substantially true, I am not altogether
prepared, knowing his animosity against her, to accept his hinted theory
of the lady's desire "de brusquer les fiancailles."

One morning, then, while Delacroix was at work, George Sand entered his
studio. She looked out of spirits, and almost immediately stated the
purpose of her visit.

"My poor Eugene!" she began; "I am afraid I have got sad news for you."

"Oh, indeed," said Delacroix, without interrupting his work, and just
giving her one of his cordial smiles in guise of welcome.

"Yes, my dear friend, I have carefully consulted my own heart, and the
upshot is, I am grieved to tell you, that I feel I cannot and could
never love you."

Delacroix kept on painting. "Is that a fact?" he said.

"Yes, and I ask you once more to pardon me, and to give me credit for my
candour--my poor Delacroix."

Delacroix did not budge from his easel.

"You are angry with me, are you not? You will never forgive me?"

"Certainly I will. Only I want you to keep quiet for ten minutes; I have
got a bit of sky there which has caused me a good deal of trouble, it is
just coming right. Go and sit down or else take a little walk, and come
back in ten minutes."

Of course, George Sand did not return; and equally, of course, did not
tell the story to any one, but somehow it leaked out. Perhaps Jenny
Leguillou had overheard the scene--she was quite capable of listening
behind a screen or door--and reporting it. Delacroix himself, when
"chaffed" about it, never denied it. There was no need for him to do so,
because theoretically it redounded to the lady's honour; had she not
rejected his advances?

I have noted it here to prove that the poetry of Delacroix n'allait pas
se faufiler dans les jupons, because, though we would not take it for
granted that where George Sand failed others would have succeeded, it is
nevertheless an authenticated fact that only one other man among the
many on whom she tried her wiles remained proof against them. That man
was Prosper Merimee, the author of "Colomba" and "Carmen," the friend of
Panizzi. "Quand je fais un roman, je choisis mon sujet; je ne veux pas
que l'on me decoupe pour en faire un. Madame Sand ne met pas ses amants
dans son coeur, elle les mets dans ses livres; et elle le fait si
diablement vite qu'on n'a pas le temps de la devancer." Merimee was
righ