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Updated: June 1, 2025
So saying, Monsieur On-Dit made his bow and hurried from one to another of the company, with all of whom he seemed to be acquainted and to possess some topic of interest or amusement for every individual. Coming at last to the Oldest Inhabitant, who was slumbering comfortably in the easy-chair, he applied his mouth to that venerable ear.
Several other guests now made their appearance; and among them, chattering with immense volubility, a brisk little gentleman of universal vogue in private society, and not unknown in the public journals under the title of Monsieur On-Dit.
Nor does it matter much to him, in his triumph over all the ages, though a generation or two of his own times shall do themselves the wrong to disregard him. By this time Monsieur On-Dit had caught up the stranger's name and destiny and was busily whispering the intelligence among the other guests. "Pshaw!" said one. "There can never be an American genius." "Pish!" cried another.
It is said that news of what was being done was brought to Arnauld, Abbot of Citeaux, one of the commanders of the crusade, and he was told that faithful and heretics were being slaughtered alike. "Slay them all," said he, "God will know His own." The story is told by a contemporary, but only as an on-dit, and may therefore be quite untrue.
"What do you say?" cried the old gentleman, starting from his nap and putting up his hand to serve the purpose of an ear-trumpet. Monsieur On-Dit bent forward again and repeated his communication. "Never within my memory," exclaimed the Oldest Inhabitant, lifting his hands in astonishment, "has so remarkable an incident been heard of."
Among the latest comers, as might reasonably be expected, arrived a guest from the far future. "Do you know him? do you know him?" whispered Monsieur On-Dit, who seemed to be acquainted with everybody. "He is the representative of Posterity, the man of an age to come."
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