tears when I think of him.”  Later on he writes:  “When I saw Pagello, I recognized in him the better side of my own nature, but pure and free from the irreparable stains which have ruined mine.”  “Always treat me like that,” writes Musset again.  “It makes me feel proud.  My dear friend, the woman who talks of her new lover in this way to the one she has given up, but who still loves her, gives him a proof of the greatest esteem that a man can receive from a woman. . . .”  That romanticism which made a drama of the situation in L’Ecole des Femmes, and another one out of that in the Precieuses ridicules, excels in taking tragically situations that belong to comedy and in turning them into the sublime.

Meanwhile George Sand had settled down in Venice with Pagello—­and with all the family, all the Pagello tribe, with the brother, the sister, to say nothing of the various rivals who came and made scenes.  It was the vulgar, ordinary platitude of an Italian intimacy of this kind.  In spite of everything, she continued congratulating herself on her choice.

“I have my love, my stay here with me.  He never suffers, for he is never weak or suspicious. . . .  He is calm and good. . . .  He loves me and is at peace; he is happy without my having to suffer, without my having to make efforts for his happiness. . . .  As for me, I must suffer for some one.  It is just this suffering which nurtures my maternal solicitude, etc. . . .”  She finally begins to weary of her dear Pagello’s stupidity.  It occurred to her to take him with her to Paris, and that was the climax.  There are some things which cannot be transplanted from one country to another.  When they had once set foot in Paris, the absurdity of their situation appeared to them.

“From the moment that Pagello landed in France,” says George Sand, “he could not understand anything.”  The one thing that he was compelled to understand was that he was no longer wanted.  He was simply pushed out.  George Sand had a remarkable gift for bringing out the characteristics of the persons with whom she had any intercourse.  This Pagello, thanks to his adventure with her, has become in the eyes of the world a personage as comic as one of Moliere’s characters.

Musset and George Sand still cared for each other.  He beseeched her to return to him.  “I am good-for-nothing,” he says, “for I am simply steeped in my love for you.  I do not know whether I am alive, whether I eat, drink, or breathe, but I know I am in love.”  George Sand was afraid to return to him, and Sainte-Beuve forbade her.  Love proved stronger than all other arguments, however, and she yielded.

As soon as she was with him once more, their torture commenced again, with all the customary complaints, reproaches and recriminations.  “I was quite sure that all these reproaches would begin again immediately after the happiness we had dreamed of and promised each other.  Oh, God, to think that we have already arrived at this!” she writes.