ed, the most absolute in its
hopes and attachments, for which all transplantation is impossible,
which is destroyed and ruined in the painful awakening from the
absorbing dream. . . . Chopin felt, and often repeated, that the
sundering of this long friendship, the rupture of this strong tie,
broke all the cords which bound him to life."

Her friends say, upon her part, that he was a morbid, dreary invalid,
jealous beyond endurance, and that she suffered much at his hands, and
separated from him only when she could endure his exactions no longer.
He did not long survive the sundering of their relations, and died in
Paris in 1849, very deeply deplored by all admirers of his genius.
Chopin was a wonderfully gifted and very remarkable man, exceedingly
reserved, and with little of the egotism of genius. His eyes were blue
and dreamy, his smile very sweet, his complexion very fair and delicate,
his hair light in color, soft and silky, his nose slightly aquiline. His
bearing was so distinguished, and his manners stamped with so much high
breeding, that involuntarily he was always treated _en prince_. His
gestures were many and graceful, yet he was on the whole serene in his
bearing, and generally gay in company, though subject to moods of deep
melancholy. He was passionately devoted to Poland all his life, and when
he was dying requested the Countess Potocka to sing to him the melodies
of his country. He was deeply religious in nature, a devout Catholic.

It was during the years of which we have been speaking that George Sand
produced her most famous works. "Indiana" was followed by "Valentine,"
"Lelia," and "Lettres d'un Voyageur." Others followed in quick
succession, many of them dealing with the subject of marriage in such a
manner as to raise a most violent storm about her head. People who had
never read these books described them as being of revolting indecency;
and that impression prevails in many quarters even yet. In point of
fact, she is no more open to the charge of indelicacy than any prominent
English novelist of the day. The opinions are bad enough many times, but
the style is always pure and perfect. This is the answer she herself
made to her critics:--

"I was astounded when a few Saint Simonians, conscientious and
sincere philanthropists, estimable and sincere seekers of truth,
asked me what I would put in the place of husbands. I answered them
naively that it was