"It is because my statue is of bronze. That exposes me constantly to scorn. Thus the other day." _Passing by one day the negro Sam MacVea Seeing I was the blacker, sat down and muttered: 'Yea.'_ "See how adroit those lines are. Did you notice how well the couplet I just recited for you rhymes for the eye." "Indeed," said Croniamantal, "for it is pronounced _Sam MacVee_, like _Shakespeer._" "Well here is something that comes off better," continued the statue: _Passing by one day the negro Sam MacVea Christened this tablet with a flask of eau-de-vie._ "There is a bit of refinement that ought to appeal to you. It is the _rime riche_, the perfect rhyme to delight the ear." "You certainly enlighten me on the rhyme," said Croniamantal. "I am very happy, dear master, to have met you in passing by." "It is my first success," replied the metallic poet. "But I have just composed a little poem bearing the same title: it is about a gentleman who passes by. _The Passerby_, across the corridor of a railroad coach; he perceives a charming lady with whom, instead of going only to Brussels, he stops at the Dutch frontier: _They passed at least eight days at Rosendael He tasted the ideal, she the real In all things, it chanced, their ways differed, It was from veritable Love they suffered._ "I call your attention to the last two lines, which through rhyming somewhat imperfectly contain a subtle dissonance, which is further emphasized by the fact of their being morbidly feminine rhymes." "Dear master," exclaimed Croniamantal, "speak to me of vers libre." "Long live liberty!" cried the bronze statue. And having saluted him, Croniamantal went his way looking for Tristouse. * * * On another day Croniamantal was walking along the boulevards. Tristouse had missed an appointment with him, and he hoped to find her in a tea room where she sometimes went with her friends. He turned the corner of the rue Le Peletier, when a gentleman, dressed in a pearl-grey cape, accosted him, saying: "Sir, I am going to reform literature. I have found a superb subject: it is about the sensations of a well bred young bachelor who permits an improper sound to escape in an assemblage of ladies and young people of good family." Croniamantal was properly amazed at the novelty of the subject, but understood at once how much it would take to test the sensibilities of the author. Croniamantal fled... A lady stepped on his feet. She was also an authoress, and did not neglect to inform him that this incident would furnish him with a subject of fresh and delicate character. Croniamantal took to his heels and reached the Pont des Saint Pères where three people were disputing over the subject of a novel and begged him to decide who was right; it was about the case of an officer. "Fine subject," cried Croniamantal. "Listen," said his neighbor, a bearded man, "I claim that the subject is too new and too unusual for the present day public."