Lucette did not understand. She merely gazed with her big wondering eyes at Salvandy who was lolling in his chair with an air of benevolent condescension. “Well, Lucette.” he went on, “will you not recite a fable for us?” The child required no urging, and began in her naïve little voice, her fine, frank, sweet eyes still fixed upon Salvandy: One easily believes one’s self to be somebody in France. 1845. During the run of M. Ponsard’s “Lucrece”, I had the following dialogue with M. Viennet at a meeting of the Academy: M. VIENNET.--Have you seen the “Lucrece” that is being played at the Odéon? MYSELF.--NO. M. VIENNET.--It is very good. MYSELF.--Really, is it good? M. VIENNET.--It is more than good, it is fine. MYSELF.--Really, is it fine? M. VIENNET.--It is more than fine, it is magnificent. MYSELF.--Really, now, magnificent? M. VIENNET.--Oh! magnificent! MYSELF.--Come, now, is it as good as “Zaire”? M. VIENNET.--Oh! no! Oh! you are going too far, you know. Gracious! “Zaire”! No, it is not as good as “Zaire”. MYSELF.--Well, you see, “Zaire” is a very poor piece indeed! AN ELECTION SESSION. February 11, 1847. Thirty-one Academicians present. Sixteen votes are necessary. First ballot. Emile Deschamps 2 votes. Victor Leclerc 14 ” Empis 15 ” Lamartine and M. Ballanche arrive at the end of the first ballot. M. Thiers arrives at the commencement of the second; which makes 34. The director asks M. Thiers whether he has promised his vote. He laughingly replies: “No,” and adds: “I have offered it.” (Laughter.) M. Cousin, to M. Lebrun, director: “You did not employ the sacramental expression. One does not ask an Academician whether he has *promised* his vote, but whether he has *pledged* it.” Second ballot. Emile Deschamps 2 votes. Empis 18 ” Victor Leclerc 14 ” M. Empis is elected. The election was decided by Lamartine and M. Ballanche. On my way out I meet Leon Gozlan, who says to me: “Well?” I reply: “There has been an election. It is Empis.” “How do you look at it?” he asks. “In both ways.” “Empis?---” “And _tant pis_!” March 16, 1847. At the Academy to-day, while listening to the poems, bad to the point of grotesqueness, that have been sent for the competition of 1847, M. de Barante remarked: “Really, in these times, we no longer know how to make mediocre verses.” Great praise of the poetical and literary excellence of these times, although M. de Barante was not conscious of it. April 22, 1847. Election of M. Ampere. This is an improvement upon the last. A slow improvement. But Academies, like old people, go slowly. During the session and after the election Lamartine sent to me by an usher the following lines: C’est un état peu prospere D’aller d’Empis en Ampere. I replied to him by the same usher: