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Only, many years ago, a hand wrote upon it in pencil these four lines, which have become gradually illegible beneath the rain and the dust, and which are, to-day, probably effaced: Il dort. Quoique le sort fut pour lui bien etrange, Il vivait. Il mourut quand il n'eut plus son ange. La chose simplement d'elle-meme arriva, Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s'en va.
Itineraries of other cities merely describe streets, public institutions, the fairs, the courts, and the places of fashionable amusement; one of these curiosities of literature now before us, published less than a century ago, describes, as available resources to the stranger, Gouvernantes, Emeutes, Reves Politiques, L'Art de Diner, Bureaux d'Esprit, corresponding to our modern blue-stocking coteries, femmes de quarante ans, with their "deux ressources, la devotion et le bel esprit"; Contre Poisons, indispensable in those days of jealousy and assassination; Pots de Fleurs form an item of the most limited establishment; emblems, such as Rubans and Bonnets Rouges, are described as essential to the intelligent conduct of the visitor; and a chapter is devoted to Gallantry, of which a modern author in the same department pensively remarks, "Cette ancienne galanterie qui vivait d'esprit et d'infidelites est comptletement denaturee."
Do you know Anatole France's description of an old woman: 'Elle vivait, mais si peu. Would that not be well said of the Church in these days: 'Elle vivait, mais si peu. I see him always like a rather beautiful dark spire in the night-time when you cannot see how it is attached to the earth. He does not know, he never will know, Life." Noel looked round at him.
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