great
conversational virtue. I do not believe that it was said ironically or
epigrammatically. The man who bestowed that praise knew how rare a merit
silence is.'

'May we not owe that merit,' I asked, 'to our bad French? We shine most
when we listen.'

'A great talker,' I continued, 'Montalembert, is to breakfast with us.
Whom shall I ask to meet him?'

'Not me,' said Tocqueville, 'unless you will accept me as one of the
chorus. I will not take a _premier role_, or any prominent _role_, in a
piece in which he is to act. I like his society; that is, I like to sit
silent and hear him talk, and I admire his talents; and we have the
strong bond of common hatreds, though perhaps we hate on different, or
even opposite grounds, and I do not wish for a dispute with him, of
which, if I say anything, I shall be in danger. If we differed on only
one subject, instead of differing, as we do, on all but one, he would
pick out that single subject to attack me on. I am not sure that even as
host you will be safe. He is more acute in detecting points of opposition
than most men are in finding subjects of agreement. He avoids meeting you
on friendly or even on neutral ground. He chooses to have a combat _en
champ clos_.

'Take care,' he added, 'and do not have too many _sommites._ They watch
one another, are conscious that they are watched, and a coldness creeps
over the table.'

'We had two pleasant breakfasts,' I said, 'a fortnight ago. You were
leader of the band at one, Z. at the other, and the rest left the stage
free to the great actor.'

'As for me,' he answered, 'I often shut myself up, particularly after
dinner, or during dinner if it be long. The process of digestion, little,
as I can eat, seems to oppress me.

'Z. is always charming. He has an _aplomb_, an ease, a _verve_ arising
from his security that whatever he says will interest and amuse. He is a
perfect specimen of an ex-statesman, _homme de lettres_, and _pere de
famille_, falling back on literature and the domestic affections. As for
me, I have intervals of _sauvagerie_, or rather the times when I am not
_sauvage_ are the intervals. I have many, perhaps too many, acquaintances
whom I like, and a very few friends whom I love, and a host of relations.
I easily tire of Paris, and long to fly to the fields and woods and
seashore of my province.'

We passed to the language of conversation.

'There are three words,' said Tocqueville, 'which you have lost, and
w