who loved him better than he loved himself, to gather and store up those handfuls of gold-dust, so recklessly flung to heaven's reckless winds.
His story done, he approached the little knoll where I and Ginevra sat apart. In his usual mode of demanding an opinion (he had not reticence to wait till it was voluntarily offered) he asked:—
"Were you interested?"
According to my wonted undemonstrative fashion, I simply answered:
"Yes".
"Was it good?"
"Very good".
"Yet I could not write that down", said he.
"Why not, monsieur?"
"I hate the mechanical labor; I hate to stop and sit still. I could dictate it, though, with pleasure, to an amanuensis who suited me. Would Mademoiselle Lucy write for me if I asked her?"
"Monsieur would be too quick; he would urge me, and be angry if my pen did not keep pace with his lips".
"Try some day; let us see the monster I can make of myself under the circumstances. But just now, there is no question of dictation; I mean to make you useful in another office. Do you see yonder farm-house?"
"Surrounded with trees?"
"Yes".
"There we are to breakfast; and while the good fermière makes the café au lait in a caldron, you and five others, whom I shall select, will spread with butter half a hundred rolls".
Having formed his troop into line once more, he marched us straight on the farm, which, on seeing our force, surrendered without capitulation.
Clean knives and plates, and fresh butter being provided, half-a-dozen of us, chosen by our professor, set to work under his directions, to prepare for breakfast a huge basket of rolls, with which the baker had been ordered to provision the farm, in anticipation of our coming. Coffee and chocolate were already made hot; cream and new-laid eggs were added to the treat, and M. Emanuel, always generous, would have given a large order for "jambon" and "confitures" in addition, but that some of us, who presumed perhaps upon our influence,
