_Interviewer._ As a keen student of your fascinating works, permit me to render to you my respectful homage. _Distinguished Foreigner in London._ Certainly. I observe that you speak the French of the capital with fluency. _Int._ You flatter me. I am only an ordinary journalist. Possibly you prefer to converse in our local language? [Illustration] _D. F._ On the contrary, I have only recently acquired the English word, "Yes." Curiously enough, this is my first voyage of discovery to your shores. I had, of course, often heard of England, and your literature is not unfamiliar to me. My secretary reads to me the works of your popular poet, ROBERT BROWNING. _Int._ Do you not, with your--er--limited knowledge, if I may so say, of our language, find that writer's meaning somewhat obscure? _D. F._ Oh no; for my secretary translates him into idiomatic French verse at sight. _Int._ M. ZOLA has also only recently discovered us. How do your novelists find the necessary models for their English types? _D. F._ Nothing simpler. Tradition, _voilà tout_. The Englishwoman, with her large feet, projecting teeth, and execrable French--we know her because we have always known her. It is not necessary to have seen her in the flesh. Indeed, it is only a marvel to me that I find the type so rare in its own country. _Int._ Might I dare to ascribe such traditional views to the prejudice of ignorance? Your Press, I believe, does not educate itself by foreign travel. _D. F._ I cannot speak for others, but personally, if I do not offend the laws of courtesy by saying this in the city whose hospitality I now enjoy, I detest your race. I regard you as insular. _Int._ We cannot, of course, help being born on an island. But we correct this defect by constant visits to the mainland, and from these we have learnt a profound respect for the tastes of our neighbours. _D. F._ I am greatly gratified by this. Nothing has impressed me so favourably here as your cordial appreciation of our people. I met a distinguished British novelist who was actually acquainted with the literature of my own Provence! _Int._ May I ask what other features of our comparatively inaccessible island have attracted your notice? _D. F._ Above all things else, the sinister silence of your city. On the Stock Exchange, down Cheapside, among vendors of journals, you can hear a pin drop. Everywhere the taciturnity of the tomb. _Int._ And what of our institutions and types? _D. F._ Nothing has impressed me so deeply as the Great Wheel at Earl's Court. It is a monument of national ardour and aspiration. This, and Mr. STANLEY, and your guardsmen, and your way of cooking meat, have left the most indelible impression upon my sentiment and constitution. I dislike the last two of them. _Int._ In cooking, we freely yield you the saucepan. But how has our military given you offence?