e as few mistakes as possible."

In January, 1869, we find her writing of herself in a playful strain to
her friend Flaubert:--

The individual called George Sand is quite well, enjoying the
marvelous winter now reigning in Berry, gathering flowers, taking
note of interesting botanic anomalies, stitching at dresses and
mantles for her daughter-in-law, costumes for the marionettes,
dressing dolls, reading music, but, above all, spending hours with
little Aurore, who is a wonderful child. There is not a being on
earth more tranquil and happier in his home than this old
troubadour retired from business, now and then singing his little
song to the moon, singing well or ill he does not particularly
care, so long as he gives the _motif_ that is running in his
head.... He is happy, for he is at peace, and can find amusement in
everything.

M. Plauchut, another literary friend and a visitor at Nohant during this
last decade of her lifetime, gives a picture of the order of her day; it
is simplicity itself.

Nine o'clock, in summer and in winter alike, was her hour of waking.
Letters and newspapers would then occupy her until noon, when she came
down to join the family _dejeuner_. Afterwards she would stroll for an
hour in the garden and the wood, visiting and tending her favorite
plants and flowers. At two o'clock she would come indoors to give a
lesson to her grandchildren in the library, or work there on her own
account, undistracted by the romps around her. Dinner at six was
followed by a short evening walk, after which she played with the
children, or set them dancing indoors. She liked to sit at the piano,
playing over to herself bits of music by her favorite Mozart, or old
Spanish and Berrichon airs. After a game of dominoes or cards she would
still sit up so late, occupying herself with water-color painting or
otherwise, that sometimes her son was obliged to take away the lights.
These long evenings, the same writer bears witness, sometimes afforded
rare opportunities of hearing Madam Sand talk of the events and the men
of her time. In the absolute quiet of the country, among a small circle
of responsive minds, she, so silent otherwise, became expansive. "Those
who have never heard George Sand at such hours," he concludes, "have
never known her. She spoke well, with great elevation of ideas, charming
eloquence, and a spirit of infinite indulgence." When at le