at the end of the Jardin du Luxembourg,
in a large house which might almost be workmen's dwellings. His flat is
on the third floor. A maid opened the door and announced us. We
penetrated into a small study.

The wife of the historian has a young, serious face; she was seated on a
chair beside the desk on which the lamp was placed, with her back to the
window. Michelet sat on a couch of green velvet, and was banked up by
cushions.

His attitude reminded us of his historical work: the lower portions of
his body were in full sight, whilst the upper were half concealed; the
face was a mere shadow surrounded with snowy white locks; from this
shadowy mass emerged a professorial, sonorous, singsong voice,
consciously important, and in which the ascending and descending scale
produced a continuous cooing sound.

He spoke to us in a most appreciative manner of our study of Watteau,
and then passed on to the interesting study which might be written on
French furniture.

"You gentlemen, who are observers of human nature," he cried suddenly,
"there is a history you should write,--the history of the lady's-maid. I
do not speak of Madame de Maintenon; but you have Mademoiselle de
Launai, the Duchesse de Grammont's Julie, who exercised on her mistress
so great an influence, especially in the Corsican affair. Madame Du
Deffand said sometimes that there were only two people sincerely
attached to her, D'Alembert and her maid. Oh! domesticity has played a
great part in history, though men-servants have been of comparative
unimportance....

"I was once going through England, traveling from York to Halifax. There
were pavements in the country lanes, with the grass growing on each side
as carefully kept as the pavements themselves; close by, sheep were
grazing, and the whole scene was lit up by gas. A singular sight!"

Then after a short pause:--"Have you noticed that the physiognomy of the
great men of to-day is so rarely in keeping with their intellect? Look
at their portraits, their photographs: there are no longer any good
portraits. Remarkable people no longer possess in their faces anything
which distinguishes them from ordinary folk. Balzac had nothing
characteristic. Would you recognize Lamartine if you saw him? There is
nothing in the shape of his head, or in his lustreless eyes, nothing but
a certain elegance which age has not affected. The fact is that in these
days there is too great an accumulation of people and things,