sually are--that is to say,
very moderately so. The two streams flowed on in the same channel,
without mingling or losing their characteristics. I fancy the fault was
most on our side.
We no longer, perhaps, parade Europe with "pride in our port, defiance
in our eye;" but still, in our travels, we lose no opportunity of
maintaining and asserting our well-beloved dignity, which, if rather a
myth and vestige of the past, at home, abroad, is a very stern reality.
Have you not seen, at a crowded _table d'hote_, the British mother
encompass her daughters with the double bulwark of herself and their
staid governess on either flank, so as to avert the contamination which
must otherwise have certainly ensued from the close proximity of a
courteous white-bearded Graf, or a _fringante_ vicomtesse whose eyes
outshone her diamonds? May it ever remain so! Each nation has its vanity
and its own peculiar glory, as it has its especial produce. O cotton
mills of Manchester! envy not nor emulate the velvet looms of Genoa or
Lyons; you are ten times as useful, and a hundredfold more remunerating.
What matters it if Damascus guard jealously the secret of her fragrant
clouded steel, when Sheffield can turn out efficient sword-blades at the
rate of a thousand per hour? _Suum cuique tribuito._ Let others aspire
to be popular: be it ours to remain irreproachably and unapproachably
respectable.
So poor Mdme. de Verzenay's efforts to promote an _entente cordiale_
were lamentably foiled. When the English mustered strong, they would
immediately form themselves into a hollow square, the weakest in the
centre, and so defy the assaults of the enemy. Now and then a daring
Gaul would attempt the adventure of the Enchanted Castle, determined, if
not to deliver the imprisoned maidens, at least to enliven their
solitude. See how gayly and gallantly he starts, glancing a saucy adieu
to Adolphe and Eugene, who admire his audacity, but augur ill for its
success. _Allons, je me risque. Montjoie St. Denis! France a la
rescousse!_ He winds, as it were, the bugle at the gate, with a
well-turned compliment or a brilliant bit of _badinage_. Slowly the
jealous valves unclose; he stands within the magic precinct--an eerie
silence all around. Suppose that one of the Seven condescends to parley
with him; she does so nervously and under protest, glancing ever over
her shoulder, as if she expected the austere Fairy momentarily to
appear; while her companions sit wit
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