There was a regular scourge of them; even the most harmless of persons were attacked with the disease. Rabbe eclipses all those obscure writers at abound; he published, successively, résumés of the history of Spain, of Portugal and of Russia; all extending to several editions. These three volumes showed admirable talent for the writing of history, and their only defect was the commonplace title under which they were published. "What are you working at?" Thiers often asked Alphonse Rabbe, as they saw the reams of paper he was using up. "I am at work on my _Sœur grise_," he replied. In the summer of 1824, Mignet made a journey to Marseilles where, before all his friends, he spread the praises of Rabbe's forthcoming novel, _La Sœur grise_, which Mignet believed to be nearly completed. Besides these fine books of history, Alphonse Rabbe wrote excellent articles in the _Courrier-Français_ on the Fine Arts. On this subject, he was not only a great master but, in addition, a great critic. He was possibly slightly unfair to Vaudeville drama and a little severe on its exponents; he carried this injustice almost to the point of hatred. A droll adventure arose out of his dislike. A compatriot of Rabbe, a Marseillais named M. Brézé (you see we sometimes put _Monsieur_) was possessed by an ardent desire for giving Rabbe advice. (Let us here insert, parenthetically, the observation that the Marseillais are born advisers, specially when their advice is unsolicited.) Well, M. Brézé had given endless advice to Rabbe while he was still at Marseilles, advice which we can easily guess he took good care not to follow. M. Brézé came to Paris and met Barthélemy, the poet, at the Palais-Royal. The two compatriots entered into conversation with one another-- "What is Rabbe doing?" asked M. Brézé. "Résumés." "Ah! so Rabbe is doing résumés?" repeated M. Brézé. "Hang it all!" "Quite so." "What are these résumés?" "The quintessence of history compressed into small volumes instead of being spun out into large ones." "How many such résumés does he do in the year?" "Perhaps one and a half or two at the most." "And how much does a résumé bring in?" "I believe twelve hundred francs." "So, if Rabbe works all the year and has only done one résumé and a half, he has earned eighteen hundred francs?" "Eighteen hundred francs, yes! by Jove!" "Hum!" And M. Brézé began to reflect. Then, suddenly, he asked--"Do you think Rabbe is as clever as M. Scribe?" The question was so unlooked for and, above all, so inappropriate, that Barthélemy began to laugh. "Why, yes," he said; "only it is cleverness of a different order." "Oh! that does not matter!" "Why does it not matter?" "If he has as much talent as M. Scribe it is all that is necessary." Again he fell into reflection; then, after a pause he said to Barthélemy-- "Is it true that M. Scribe earns a hundred thousand francs a year?" "People say so," replied Barthélemy.