quake. On the contrary, Casimir Dudevant, a natural son of
Colonel Dudevant (an officer of the legion of honour and a baron of the
Empire), was, according to George Sand's own description, "a slender,
and rather elegant young man, with a gay countenance and a military
manner." Besides good looks and youth--he was twenty-seven--he must
also have possessed some education, for, although he did not follow
any profession, he had been at a military school, served in the army as
sub-lieutenant, and on leaving the army had read for the bar and been
admitted a barrister. There was nothing romantic in the courtship, but
at the same time it was far from commonplace.

He did not speak to me of love [writes George Sand], and
owned that he was little inclined to sudden passion, to
enthusiasm, and in any case no adept in expressing it in an
attractive manner. He spoke of a friendship that would stand
any test, and compared the tranquil happiness of our hosts
[she was then staying with some friends] to that which he
believed he could swear to procure me.

She found sincerity not only in his words, but also in his whole
conduct; indeed, what lady could question a suitor's sincerity
after hearing him say that he had been struck at first sight by her
good-natured and sensible look, but that he had not thought her either
beautiful or pretty?

Shortly after their marriage the young couple proceeded to Nohant, where
they spent the winter. In June, 1823, they went to Paris, and there
their son Maurice was born. Their only other offspring, the daughter
Solange, did not come into the world till fiveyears later. The
discrepancies of the husband and wife's character, which became soon
apparent, made themselves gradually more and more felt. His was a
practical, hers a poetic nature. Under his management Nohant assumed an
altogether different aspect--there was now order, neatness, and economy,
where there was previously confusion, untidiness, and waste. She
admitted that the change was for the better, but could not help
regretting the state of matters that had been--the old dog Phanor taking
possession of the fire-place and putting his muddy paws upon the carpet;
the old peacock eating the strawberries in the garden; and the wild
neglected nooks, where as a child she had so often played and dreamed.
Both loved the country, but they loved it for different reasons. He was
especially fond of hunting, a consequence of which was