tainly love as much as he,--that is, I
think so unless I delude myself,--well, I can give to my love a literary
form in harmony with its character. But I dare not say, mademoiselle,"
he added, turning to Modeste with too studied a grace, "that to-morrow I
may not be without inspiration."

Thus the poet triumphed over all obstacles. In honor of his love he
rode a-tilt at the hindrances that were thrown in his way, and Modeste
remained wonder-struck at the Parisian wit that scintillated in his
declamatory discourse, of which she had hitherto known little or
nothing.

"What an acrobat!" whispered Butscha to Latournelle, after listening
to a magnificent tirade on the Catholic religion and the happiness
of having a pious wife,--served up in response to a remark by Madame
Mignon.

Modeste's eyes were blindfolded as it were; Canalis's elocution and the
close attention which she was predetermined to pay to him prevented her
from seeing that Butscha was carefully noting the declamation, the want
of simplicity, the emphasis that took the place of feeling, and the
curious incoherencies in the poet's speech which led the dwarf to make
his rather cruel comment. At certain points of Canalis's discourse, when
Monsieur Mignon, Dumay, Butscha, and Latournelle wondered at the
man's utter want of logic, Modeste admired his suppleness, and said to
herself, as she dragged him after her through the labyrinth of fancy,
"He loves me!" Butscha, in common with the other spectators of what
we must call a stage scene, was struck with the radiant defect of all
egoists, which Canalis, like many men accustomed to perorate, allowed to
be too plainly seen. Whether he understood beforehand what the person he
was speaking to meant to say, whether he was not listening, or whether
he had the faculty of listening when he was thinking of something
else, it is certain that Melchior's face wore an absent-minded look in
conversation, which disconcerted the ideas of others and wounded their
vanity. Not to listen is not merely a want of politeness, it is a mark
of disrespect. Canalis pushed this habit too far; for he often forgot
to answer a speech which required an answer, and passed, without the
ordinary transitions of courtesy, to the subject, whatever it was, that
preoccupied him. Though such impertinence is accepted without protest
from a man of marked distinction, it stirs a leaven of hatred and
vengeance in many hearts; in those of equals it even goes s