which Montesquieu
compares the heathen philosophers to those plants which the earth
produces in places that have never seen the heavens. The soil of
his experience does not grow a single belief; and as no community
can exist without a belief of some kind, so a politician without
belief can but help to destroy; he cannot reconstruct. Such writers
corrupt a society; they do not reform a system."

He closed his letter with a reference to Isaura:

"Do, in your reply, my dear Savarin, tell me something about your
friends Signora Venosta and the Signorina, whose work, so far as yet
published, I have read with admiring astonishment at the power of a
female writer so young to rival the veteran practitioners of fiction
in the creation of interest in imaginary characters, and in
sentiments which, if they appear somewhat over-romantic and
exaggerated, still touch very fine chords in human nature not
awakened in our trite every-day existence. I presume that the
beauty of the roman has been duly appreciated by a public so
refined as the Parisian, and that the name of the author is
generally known. No doubt she is now much the rage of the literary
circles, and her career as a writer may be considered fixed. Pray
present my congratulations to the Signorina when you see her."

Savarin had been in receipt of this letter some days before he called
on Isaura, and carelessly showed it to her. She took it to the window to
read, in order to conceal the trembling of her hands. In a few minutes
she returned it silently.

"Those Englishmen," said Savarin, "have not the heart of compliment. I
am by no means flattered by what he says of my trifles, and I dare say
you are still less pleased with this chilly praise of your charming
tale; but the man means to be civil."

"Certainly," said Isaura, smiling faintly.

"Only think of Rameau!" resumed Savarin. "On the strength of his salary
in the 'Sens Commun,' and on the chateaux en Espagne which he constructs
thereon, he has already furnished an apartment in the Chaussee d'Antin,
and talks of setting up a coupe in order to maintain the dignity of
letters when he goes to dine with the duchesses who are some day or
other to invite him. Yet I admire his self-confidence, though I laugh at
it. A man gets on by a spring in his own mechanism, and he should always
keep it wound up. Rameau will make a figure. I used to pity him; I begin
to respect