the perfume of a flower?--but when the murmur ceased, the song died away, the perfume evaporated, we listened, we waited, we longed for more! Then Nodier would slide back quietly from his position at the fireplace into his big arm-chair; would smile and turn to Lamartine or Hugo with-- "Enough of such prose as that--now let us have poetry, poetry!" And, without a second bidding, one of the two poets would, from where he was, with hands leant on the back of an armchair, or shoulders propped up against the panelled walls, give birth to the harmonious and eager flow of his poetic fancy; then every head would turn in the fresh direction, every intellect would follow the flight of a thought which soared above them on eagle's wings to play now in the mist of clouds among the lightnings of the tempest, now in the rays of the sun. On these occasions applause followed; then, when the applause had ceased, Marie would go to her piano and a brilliant rush of notes would burst upon the air. This was the signal for a quadrille; arm-chairs and chairs were put away, card-players took refuge in corners, and those who, instead of dancing, preferred to talk with Marie, would slip into her alcove. Nodier was one of the earliest at the card-tables; for a long time he would only play at _bataille_, at which he claimed to be very expert; but, finally, he was induced to make a concession to the taste of the century and played _écarté_. When the ball had begun, Nodier, who was usually very unlucky, would call for cards. From the moment he began, Nodier effaced himself, disappeared and was utterly forgotten; he was one of those old-fashioned hosts who obliterated themselves in order to give precedence to their guests, who, when made welcome, become masters of the house themselves. Moreover, after Nodier had disappeared for a time, he would disappear entirely. He went to bed in good time, or, to speak more correctly, he was put to bed early. To Madame Nodier belonged the care of putting this great child to bed; she would therefore leave the salon first in order to get his bed ready. If it were winter, and very cold, and the kitchen fire had perchance gone out, a warming-pan would be seen to thread its way amidst the dancers to the salon fireplace, its wide jaws would open to receive the glowing coals, and then it would be taken away to Nodier's bedroom. Nodier followed the warming-pan, and we saw him no more that night. Such was Nodier; such was the life of that excellent man. Once we came upon him in a mood of humiliation and shame and embarrassment. The author of the _Rot de Bohème et ses Sept Châteaux_ had just been nominated an Academician. He made very humble apologies to Hugo and to me, and we forgave him. After having been rejected five times, Hugo was nominated in his turn. He offered me no excuses, which was as well; since I should certainly not have forgiven him! CHAPTER II