The Parisians, Book 4.

s of a crowded capital. The Londoner knows its charm when he feels his tread on the softening swards of the Vale of Health, or, pausing at Richmond unde

when Graham reached the pretty suburb in which Isaura dwelt, it seemed to him as if all the wheels of the loud busy life were suddenly smitten still. The hour was yet early; he felt sure that he should find Isaura at home. The garden-gate stood unfastened and ajar; he pushed it aside and entered. I think I have before said that the garden of the villa was shut out from the road and the gaze

e rose-a winter rose that had mysteriously survived its relations-opened its pale hues frankly to the noonday sun. Graham approached slowly, noiselessly, and the last note of the song had ceased when he stood at the entrance of the arbour. Isaura did not perceive him at first, for her face was bent downward musingly

ly. What a lovely air! and what simple sweetness in such of the words as reached me! I am so ignorant of music that you must not laugh

ds and music are by an unknown and very humble composer, yet not, indeed, quite original,-they have not even th

they seemed to me to convey a more subtle and refined senti

changed in the paraphrase, and not

e sentiment in both, and l

, loses the image, and brings up a few common fishes. He returns home disappointed, and very much enamoured of the supposed Nereid. The next day he goes again to the same place, and discovers that the face which had so charmed him was that of a mortal girl reflected on the wate

sic indeed from the other, which is dee

gain sees the face in the water, again and again seeks to capture the Nereid, and never knows to the last that the face was that of the mortal

recast meant to symb

but in life, yes,-at leas

ough there can be no doubt of the new beauty you have given to the old song, I think that the moral of the old was the sounder one, the truer to human life

tle-sprigs and one or two buds from the last winter rose, which she had been arranging into a

w blossoms which winter has so kindly spared, and which even summer will not give again;" and placing his hand on the w

is rising, and you must find it chilly here," she said,

I feel chilly," said G

y prosaic admonitions

so wonderfully sweet and musical. She now had gained the entrance of the arbour; Graham joined her, an

e have been ther

ubt, the illustrious yo

nd Corn

e severe on him. He is unhappy, he is struggling, he is soured.

ne of those writers very common nowadays, in France and even in England; writers who have never read anything worth studying, and are, of course, presumptuous in prop

terly; he was on

ou not a writer? M. Savarin told me yo

a spasmodic song, a sensational novel, and straightway he calls Himself an artist, and indulges in a pedantic jargon about 'essence' and 'form,' assuring us that a poet we can understand wants essence, and a poet we can scan wants form. Thank hea

t from the common pursuits of the world, what a relief it is to escape from the ordinary talk of society. There is a sort of instinctive freemasonry among us, including masters and disciples; and one art has a fellowship with other arts. Mine is but song and music, yet I feel attracted towards a sculptor, a painter, a romance-writer, a poet, as much as towards a

nnot say how I thank you for this candour. Do

wh

e artistic sympathies which you so touchingly confess; beware how, in the great events of life, you allow fancy to misguide your reason. In choosing friends on whom to rely, separate the artist from the human being. Judge of the human being for what it is in itself. Do not worship the face on the waters, blind to the image on the rock. In one word, never see in an artist like a M. Rameau the human being to whom you could intrust the destinies of your lif

ly they had turned away from the house, a

d into the face of the companion by his side. Now, when he had concluded,

art sm

to his; "I have had no right to talk thus; but

ded to his pressed it g

saying, she lifted her eyes, streaming still, to his bended countenance,-eyes, despite their tears, so clear in their innocent

among the elevating agencies of humanity; how, too, I said that no man could venture to ask you to renounce the boards, the lamps,-resign the fame of actress, of singer. Well, now that you accord to me the title of friend, now that you so touchingly remi

y expressed, on the ennobling effects of music and song upon a popular audience, that counteracted the growing distaste to rendering up my whole life to the vocation

ply was arrested; voices and footsteps were heard behind. He tu

reated towards the arbour. Graham hurried on to meet the Signora and the visitors, giving tim

house, and took leave at the gate. In parting, his eyes fixed themselves on Isaura. Gustave Rameau was by her side. That nosegay which had been left in the arbour was in her

am I? Were the sole choice before me that between her and ambition and wealth, how soon it would be made! Ambiti