ra-
tion are nothing in comparison
with the rage that devours my soul.
The Duchess of Bracciano is still
one of the most beautiful women in
Rome. I loved her well enough to
be jealous--"

"You, her husband!"

"Yes, I was wrong, no doubt."

"It is not the correct thing, to be
sure," said Rinaldo.

"My jealousy was roused by the
Duchess' conduct," the Duke went
on. "The event proved me right. A
young Frenchman fell in love with
Olympia, and she loved him. I had
proofs of their reciprocal affection

"Pray excuse me, ladies," said Lousteau, "but I find it impossible to go
on without remarking to you how direct this Empire literature is, going
to the point without any details, a characteristic, as it seems to me,
of a primitive time. The literature of that period holds a place between
the summaries of chapters in _Telemaque_ and the categorical reports of
a public office. It had ideas, but refrained from expressing them,
it was so scornful! It was observant, but would not communicate its
observations to any one, it was so miserly! Nobody but Fouche ever
mentioned what he had observed. 'At that time,' to quote the words
of one of the most imbecile critics in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_,
'literature was content with a clear sketch and the simple outline of
all antique statues. It did not dance over its periods.'--I should think
not! It had no periods to dance over. It had no words to play with. You
were plainly told that Lubin loved Toinette; that Toinette did not love
Lubin; that Lubin killed Toinette and the police caught Lubin, who was
put in prison, tried at the assizes, and guillotined.--A strong sketch,
a clear outline! What a noble drama! Well, in these days the barbarians
make words sparkle."

"Like a hair in a frost," said Monsieur de Clagny.

"So those are the airs you affect?"[*] retorted Lousteau.

[*] The rendering given above is only intended to link the
various speeches into coherence; it has no resemblance with
the French. In the original, "Font chatoyer les _mots_."

"Et quelquefois les _morts_," dit Monsieur de Clagny.

"Ah! Lousteau! vous vous donnez de ces R-la (airs-la)."

Literally: "And sometimes the dead."--"Ah, are those the airs you
assume?"--the play on the insertion of the letter R (_mots,
morts_) has no meaning in English.

"What can he mean?" asked Madame de Clagny, puzzled by this vile pun.

"I seem to be wal