Nodier could have chosen still another original, the Dutch baron Westreeven van Tiellandt. This extraordinary person kept his library under triple lock for forty years. One day, however, in an access of good feeling, he said to two of his best friends: “You have often expressed a desire to see my books. I want to oblige you both, but you must submit to certain conditions: before entering my library you must each put on a dressing-gown which I have expressly prepared, because your clothes might be saturated with a smell which is bad for books; and you must wear the slippers that I have provided, because your shoes might be full of dangerous dust.” The baron, however, invariably found an excuse for postponing the visit to his library, and died without having kept his promise. As the baron survived Nodier some years, this last feature could not have been portrayed with its attendant moral. The “Bulletin du Bibliophile,” which owed its existence in part to Nodier, took upon itself the baron’s funeral oration and reproduced his will. In leaving his library to the city of The Hague, the baron stipulated that it should be open only on the first and third Thursdays of each month, and only to people who had been provided the preceding day with cards of admission. “Never,” he said, “under any pretext, shall the books or manuscripts be taken outside the reading-room.” No further purchases were to be made, except to complete the collections which he had himself begun--he whose restless and jealous spirit wished to hover around his books. Avarice, either in the Latin sense of the word or in its more modern meaning, is the agony of a man who is made to tremble by every trifle when he contemplates his possessions. Some of these bibliomaniacs are like very rich people, of whom it is said, “They leave a great fortune.” The verb “to leave” has here rather an ironical meaning. It is as much as saying that they have amassed wealth without having been themselves the gainers thereby. The book-collector belongs to a race of refined egotists. He knows and tastes the subtle, intense joy which comes from the sight and possession of a fine book. Even before opening it, he handles it caressingly, touching its pages lightly as he would the wings of a butterfly.