One day I was walking down the rue de la Tour-des-Dames with him. A young swell who was driving a tilbury, and who had lost control of his horse going down that steep decline, just missed running over M. Arnault, who was not a patient man. "You blackguard!" he said; "can't you look where you are going?" "What did you say,--blackguard?" exclaimed the young man. "Yes, blackguard!" repeated M. Arnault. "Monsieur, you shall render an account for that insult!... Here is my address!" "Your address?" replied M. Arnault. "Keep it to drive your horse to." Another day, on the Champs-Élysées, he passed by a priest without saluting him. We have said that M. Arnault was very short-sighted; besides, he was not very fond of black men, as they were called at that time. The priest, whom he had almost jostled against, turned round. "There goes a Jacobin," he said, "he jostles against me and does not salute me."[2] "Monsieur," replied M. Arnault, "do not be more exacting than the Gospel: _Extra ecclesiam nulla est salus."_[3] I see I have forgotten among all these matters to speak of Madame Arnault. She was about forty when I was first introduced to her and she was still a charming little woman at that age, dark, pretty, plump, full of airs and graces. Madame Arnault was cordially good to me for five years, then things changed. Perhaps it was my own fault: the reader shall judge when the time comes. [1] The Abbé Geoffrey. [2] Et qui ne me salue pas. [3] Hors de l'Église, pas de salut! CHAPTER IV Frédéric Soulié, his character, his talent--Choruses of the various plays, sung as prologues and epilogues--Transformation of the vaudeville--The Gymnase and M. Scribe--The _Folle de Waterloo_ Adolphe took me to Frédéric Soulié's house that evening. Frédéric Soulié had a gathering of friends to celebrate his refusal at the Gymnase; for he looked upon the acceptance on condition of alteration as a refusal.