He Is A Charming Old Man, Very Animated, With A
Face Full Of Feeling And Benevolence, And With That Agreeable
Simplicity And Vivacity Of Manner Which Is Peculiarly French.
It was
eleven o'clock, but he had not yet breakfasted; we entreated him to
waive ceremony, and so his maid brought in his chop and coffee, and we
all plunged into an animated conversation.
Beranger went on conversing
with shrewdness mingled with childlike simplicity, a blending of the
comic, the earnest, and the complimentary. Conversation in a French
circle seems to me like the gambols of a thistle down, or the rainbow
changes in soap bubbles. One laughs with tears in one's eyes. One
moment confounded with the absolute childhood of the simplicity, in
the next one is a little afraid of the keen edge of the shrewdness.
This call gave me an insight into a French circle which both amused
and delighted me. Coming home, M. Belloc enlarged upon Beranger's
benevolence and kindness of heart. "No man," he said, "is more
universally popular with the common people. He has exerted himself
much for the families of the unfortunate deportes to Cayenne." Then he
added, laughing, "A mechanic, one of my model sitters, was dilating
upon his goodness - 'What a man! what sublime virtue! how is he
beloved! Could I live to see his funeral! _Quelle spectacle! Quelle
grande emotion!'"_
At tea, Madame M. commented on the manners of a certain English lady
of our acquaintance.
"She's an actress; she's too affected!"
Madame Belloc and I defended her.
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