And, believe me, he sealed the letter at arm's length, with as steady a hand as though he had been twenty-five years of age. Then, taking a large silver seal, he pressed it on the lake of burning wax, and did not withdraw it until the impress was clearly defined and I could see the escutcheon with the three heraldic fleurs-de-lis of Orléans, surmounted by the ducal coronet. I was disheartened, I must confess. "Write the address," M. le Chevalier de Broval said imperiously. I wrote the address with a trembling hand. "Good, good!" said M. le Chevalier de Broval; "don't be discouraged, my boy.... It is all right; now countersign it." I stopped, completely ignorant of what a countersign was. M. de Broval began to realise, as General Foy had done, how ignorant I was. He pointed with a finger to the corner of the letter. "There," he said, "write there _Duc d'Orléans._ That is to frank the letter. You hear?" I heard well enough; but I was so profoundly upset that I hardly understood what was said. "There!" said M. de Broval, taking up the letter and looking at it with a satisfied air, "that is all right; but you must learn all these things.... Ernest,"--Ernest was M. de Broval's favourite, and in his genial moments the old courtier called him by his Christian name,--"Ernest, teach M. Dumas to fold letters, to make envelopes and to seal packets." And at these words he took himself off. The door had scarcely shut before I was begging my comrade Ernest to begin his lessons, and he gave himself up to the task at once with hearty goodwill. Ernest was a first-rate hand at folding, making envelopes and sealing; but I put my whole will into it, and it was not long before I equalled and surpassed my master's skill. When I gave in my resignation, in 1831, to the Duc d'Orléans, who had become Louis-Philippe I., I had attained to such perfection in the third accomplishment, especially, that the only regret he expressed was this-- "The devil! that is a pity! You are the best sealer of letters I have ever seen." While I was taking my lesson in folding and sealing under Ernest, Lassagne was reading the papers. "Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I well recollect that!" "What is it?" I asked. Instead of answering me, Lassagne read aloud:--"A scene which recalls that of la Fontaine at the first representation of _Florentin_ took place, yesterday evening, at the third performance of the revival of the _Vampire._ Our learned bibliophile, Charles Nodier, was expelled from Porte-Saint-Martin theatre for disturbing the play by whistling. Charles Nodier is one of the anonymous authors of the _Vampire_." "So!" I cried, "my neighbour of the orchestra was Charles Nodier!" "Did you have any talk with him?" asked Lassagne. "I did nothing else during the intervals." "You were fortunate," continued Lassagne: "had I been in your place, I should have greatly preferred the intervals to the play."