he lacks the six sous necessary to procure him quarters for the
night, which is occasionally the case, he applies to some cabman among
his friends or to the coachman of some great lord, and a place on the
straw beside the horses is vouchsafed him. In the morning he carries a
part of his mattress in his hair. If the season is mild, he spends the
whole night strolling back and forth on the Cours or in the Champs
Elysees. With the day he appears again in the city, dressed yesterday
for to-day and to-day often for the rest of the week.

For such originals I cannot feel much esteem, but there are others who
make close acquaintances and even friends of them. Once in the year
perhaps they are able to put their spell upon me, when I meet them,
because their character is in such strong contrast to that of
every-day humanity, and they break the oppressive monotony which our
education, our social conventions, our traditional proprieties have
produced. When such a man enters a company, he acts like a cake of
yeast that raises the whole, and restores to each a part of his
natural individuality. He shakes them up, brings things into motion,
elicits praise or censure, drives truth into the open, makes upright
men recognizable, unmasks the rogues, and there the wise man sits and
listens and is enabled to distinguish one class from another.

This particular specimen I had long known; he frequented a house into
which his talents had secured him the entree. These people had an only
daughter. He swore to the parents that he would marry their daughter.
They only shrugged their shoulders, laughed in his face, and assured
him that he was a fool. But I saw the day come when the thing was
accomplished. He asked me for some money, which I gave him. He had,
I know not how, squirmed his way into a few houses, where a _couvert_
stood always ready for him, but it had been stipulated that he should
never speak without the consent of his hosts. So there he sat and
ate, filled the while with malice; it was fun to see him under this
restraint. The moment he ventured to break the treaty and open his
mouth, at the very first word the guests all shouted "O Rameau!" Then
his eyes flashed wrathfully, and he fell upon his food again with
renewed energy.

You were curious to know the man's name; there it is. He is the nephew
of the famous composer who has saved us from the church music of Lulli
which we have been chanting for a hundred years, ... and who, ha