it as yet with personal anecdotes
about the heroine. In addition to this, the title was a very taking one,
and, moreover, absolutely new; for, though it was obvious enough from
Alphonsine Plessis' habit of wearing white camellias the greater part of
the year, no one had ever thought of applying it to her while she was
alive; hence, the credit of its invention belongs decidedly to Dumas
_fils_.

I may return to the subject of "La Dame aux Camelias" in connection with
the play; meanwhile, I will say a few words of the only man among our
set who objected to the title, "because it injures my own," as he put
it; namely, M. Lautour-Mezerai, who had been surnamed "L'Homme au
Camellia;" in the singular, from his habit of never appearing in public
without that flower in his button-hole. And be it remembered that in
those days, the flower was much more rare than it is at present, and
consequently very expensive. The plagiarist, if there was one, must have
been Alphonsine Plessis, for Dr. Veron, who was one of his oldest
friends, did not remember having ever seen him _minus_ the camellia, and
their friendship dated from the year 1831. It is computed that during
the nineteen years Mezerai was in Paris, previous to his departure for
the South of France and afterwards for Algeria, in both of which
provinces he fulfilled the functions of prefect, he must have spent no
less than fifty thousand francs on his favourite floral ornament, for he
frequently changed it twice a day, and its price, especially in the
thirties and earlier part of the forties, was not less than five francs.
It is, therefore, not surprising that he resented the usurpation of his
title. M. Lautour-Mezerai was one of the most elegant men I knew. He not
only belonged to a very good provincial stock, but his family on both
sides counted some eminent names in literature.[20] He was a most
charming companion, exceedingly generous; but he would not have parted
with the flower in his button-hole for any consideration, not even to
oblige his greatest friend, male or female. It was more than an ornament
to him, he looked upon it as a talisman. He always occupied the same
place at the Opera, in the balcony, or what we call the "dress-circle,"
and many a covetous glance from the brightest eyes was cast at the
dazzling white camellia, standing out in bold relief against the dark
blue coat, but neither glances nor direct requests had any effect upon
him. He became absolutely sav