to the manager of the _Revue_, asking him to
advance the money." And this debt was on her shoulders for a long time.

The facts of the case are as follows, according to a letter from George
Sand to Buloz: "I beseech you, as a favour, to pay Alfred's debt and to
write to him that it is all settled. You cannot imagine the impatience
and the disturbance that this little matter cause him. He speaks to me
of it every minute, and begs me every day to write to you about it. He
owes these three hundred and sixty francs (L14 8_s_.) to a young man
he knows very little and who might talk of it to people. . . . You have
already advanced much larger sums to him. He has always paid you back,
and you are not afraid that this would make you bankrupt. If, through
his illness, he should not be able to work for a long time, my work
could be used for that, so be at ease. . . . Do this, I beseech you, and
write him a short letter to ease his mind at once. I will then read it
to him, and this will pacify one of the torments of his poor head. Oh,
my friend, if you only knew what this delirium is like! What sublime and
awful things he has said, and then what convulsions and shouts! I do not
know how he has had strength enough to pull through and how it is that I
have not gone mad myself. Adieu, adieu, my friend."

There really was a gambling debt, then, but we do not know exactly where
it was contracted. It amounted to three hundred and sixty francs,
which is very different from the ten thousand francs and the threat of
suicide.

And now we come to the pure folly! Musset had been attended by a young
doctor, Pietro Pagello. He was a straightforward sort of young man,
of rather slow intelligence, without much conversation, not speaking
French, but very handsome. George Sand fell in love with him. One night,
after having scribbled a letter of three pages, she put it into an
envelope without any address and gave it to Pagello. He asked her to
whom he was to give the letter. George Sand took the envelope back and
wrote on it: "To stupid Pagello." We have this declaration, and among
other things in the letter are the following lines: "You will not
deceive me, anyhow. You will not make any idle promises and false
vows. . . . I shall not, perhaps, find in you what I have sought for in
others, but, at any rate, I can always believe that you possess it.
. . . I shall be able to interpret your meditations and make your silence
speak eloquently. . . ."