he neither
smoked, drank, nor gambled; though, in spite of his mania for cooking,
he himself was the most frugal eater--the beef from the soup of the
previous day, grilled, was his favourite dish,--it rained writs and
summonses around him, while he himself was frequently without a penny.

M. du Chaffault one day told me of a scene _a propos_ of this which is
worth reproducing. He was chatting to Dumas in his study, when a visitor
was shown in. He turned out to be an Italian man of letters and refugee,
on the verge of starvation. M. du Chaffault could not well make out what
was said, because they were talking Italian, but all at once Dumas got
up and took from the wall behind him a magnificent pistol, one of a
pair. The visitor walked off with it, to M. du Chaffault's surprise.
When he was gone, Dumas turned to his friend and explained: "He was
utterly penniless, and so am I; so I gave him the pistol."

"Great Heavens, you surely did not recommend him to go and make an end
of himself!" interrupted du Chaffault.

Dumas burst out laughing. "Of course not. I merely told him to go and
sell or pawn it, and leave me the fellow one, in case some other poor
wretch should want assistance while I am so terribly hard up."

And yet, in this very Rue d'Amsterdam, whether Dumas was terribly
impecunious or not, the dejeuner, which generally began at about
half-past eleven, was rarely finished before half-past four, because
during the whole of that time fresh contingents arrived to be fed, and
communication was kept up between the apartment and the butcher for
corresponding fresh supplies of beefsteaks and cutlets.

Is it a wonder, then, that it rained summonses, and writs, and other law
documents? But no one took much notice of these, not even one of the
four secretaries, who was specially appointed to look after these
things. If I remember aright, his name was Hirschler. The names of the
other three secretaries were Rusconi, Viellot, and Fontaine.
Unfortunately, Hirschler was as dilatory as his master, and, until the
process-server claimed a personal interview, as indifferent. These
"limbs of the law" were marvellously polite. I was present one day at an
interview between one of these and Hirschler, for Dumas' dwelling was
absolutely and literally the glass house of the ancient
philosopher--with this difference, that no one threw any stones _from_
it. There was no secret, no skeleton in the cupboard; the impecuniosity
and the rec