ibrated within them. The period of his revival was marked by the
achievement of each one of his books which he composed then, persuaded
that, once written and construed, a sentimental or social experience
was not worth the trouble of being dwelt upon. Thus is explained the
incoherence of custom and the atmospheric contact, if one may so express
it, which are the characteristics of his work. Take, for example, his
first collection of novels, the 'Etudes de Femmes,' which made him
famous. They are about a sentimental woman who loved unwisely, and who
spent hours from excess of the romantic studying the avowed or disguised
demi-monde. By the side of that, 'Sans Dieu,' the story of a drama
of scientific consciousness, attests a continuous frequenting of the
Museum, the Sorbonne and the College of France, while 'Monsieur de
Premier' presents one of the most striking pictures of the contemporary
political world, which could only have been traced by a familiar of the
Palais Bourbon.

On the other hand, the three books of travel pretentiously named
'Tourisime,' 'Les Profils d'Etrangeres' and the 'Eclogue Mondaine,'
which fluctuated between Florence and London, St.-Moritz and Bayreuth,
revealed long sojourns out of France; a clever analysis of the Italian,
English, and German worlds; a superficial but true knowledge of the
languages, the history and literature, which in no way accords with
'l'odor di femina', exhale from every page. These contrasts are brought
out by a mind endowed with strangely complex qualities, dominated by a
firm will and, it must be said, a very mediocre sensibility. The last
point will appear irreconcilable with the extreme and almost morbid
delicacy of certain of Dorsenne's works. It is thus however. He had very
little heart. But, on the other hand, he had an abundance of nerves
and nerves, and their irritability suffice for him who desires to paint
human passions, above all, love, with its joys and its sorrows, of
which one does not speak to a certain extent when one experiences them.
Success had come to Julien too early not to have afforded him occasion
for several adventures. In each of the centres traversed in the course
of his sentimental vagabondage he tried to find a woman in whom was
embodied all the scattered charms of the district. He had formed
innumerable intimacies. Some had been frankly affectionate. The
majority were Platonic. Others had consisted of the simple coquetry of
friendship, as w