Le Play, Fustel de Coulanges or Taine, would have welcomed with joy this disciple, who was already a master, because of his positive method, his erudition, his regard for facts, and Taine, the greatest artist of the three, would have rejoiced in the warmth of his style and the coloring of his pictures. In reconsidering his friend's successful career, Philippe Lagier, with the usual outcome of such dreams, began to think of his own achievements and concluded: "He had luck. After all I am as able as he." His friendship, although deep and of long standing, was not quite free from envy. He had deplored his narrow horizon and limited environment too often not to be envious of the freer, broader existence that Albert Derize enjoyed. He was his friend's equal in intellectual penetration, and was much quicker to perceive the ironical side of situations and characters, and to accept them at once at their true valuation. Because of the unexpected scope Derize gave to all subjects and observations, the contagious love of life which he spread about him, the inner flame which at all times flashed from his eyes, how indisputably did he relegate Lagier to the second place! And when one expected his enthusiasm to lead him into an error, an exaggeration or a false statement, he would right himself again as a careening boat with its sails too taut, by a skillful turn of the rudder, swings into its right course. A well-balanced mind and a passionate heart, one had to recognize him as a rare force with the power to enliven the hours by his presence, as his books animated them for his readers. Philippe Lagier was interrupted in his impartial comparison by the entrance of M. Tabourin. "I will be with you immediately, Chief. These people who were dispossessed were trying to retain their land." He was referring to the peasants in their blue blouses and he disappeared again to argue with them. Philippe remembered his unpleasant surprise when he had heard of the engagement of Albert and Elizabeth Molay-Norrois. He himself, at that time, was hesitating about asking for the hand of the young girl of nineteen, whom he thought too young, too worldly, judging her by her clothes; too conventionally pretty with her pastel complexion, her wondering eyes and that well-rounded form giving promise of developing into too stout a woman. He counted upon time to dispel his indecision, and had then been suddenly obliged to quit the field--which is always difficult. He had, however, quickly dismissed this sentimental dream, and had even been able to propose a toast on the wedding day, when with the usual commonplaces, he made a speech to the young couple who were "made for each other." Was not that reality outdone? This young man, already famous, whom the Molay-Norrois had been proud to welcome, despite the inferiority of his family, took with him to Paris a wife who was worthy of him and would help him in his easy ascent to success.