ed him, "for Rossini and Malibran on their
side boast of having been hissed by Neapolitans."

So I boast that the Rouenese have hissed me. Nevertheless, meeting a
full-blooded Rouenese one day I resolved to discover why I had been
hissed at Rouen. I like to understand these little things.

My Rouenese informed me: "We hiss you because we are down on you."

Why not? Rouen was down on Joan of Arc. Nevertheless it could not be
for the same reason. I asked my Rouenese why he and his compatriots were
ill-disposed to me; I had never said anything evil of apple sugar, I
had treated M. Barbet with respect during his entire term as mayor,
and, when a delegate from the Society of Letters at the unveiling of the
statue of the great Corneille, I was the only one who thought to bow to
him before beginning my speech. There was nothing in that which could
have reasonably incurred the hatred of the Rouenese.

Therefore to this haughty reply, "We hiss you because we have a grudge
against you," I asked humbly:

"But, great Heavens! why are you down on me?"

"Oh, you know very well," replied my Rouenese.

"I?" I exclaimed.

"Yes, you."

"Well, never mind; pretend I do not know."

"You remember the dinner the city gave you, in connection with that
statue of Corneille?"

"Perfectly. Were they annoyed because I did not return it?"

"No, it is not that."

"What is it then?"

"Well, at that dinner they said to you: 'M. Dumas, you ought to write a
play for Rouen based upon some subject taken from its own history.'"

"To which I replied: 'Nothing easier; I will come at your first summons
and spend a fortnight in Rouen. You can suggest the subject, and during
that fortnight I will write the play, the royalties of which I shall
devote to the poor.'"

"That is true, you said that."

"I see nothing sufficiently insulting in that to incur the hatred of the
Rouenese."

"Yes, but they added: 'Will you write it in prose?' To which you
replied--Do you remember what you answered?"

"My faith! no."

"You replied: 'I will write it in verse; it is soonest done.'"

"That sounds like me. Well, what then?"

"Then! That was an insult to Corneille, M. Dumas; that is why the
Rouenese are down on you, and will be for a long time."

Verbatim!

Oh, worthy Rouenese! I trust that you will never serve me so ill as to
forgive and applaud me.

The aforesaid paper observed that M. Dumas had doubtless spent but one
night in Lyons because a