his position but oppose a flat denial to a historical statement made by Bourgonef, backing his denial by the confident assertion that “all the competent authorities” held with him.  At this point Bourgonef appealed to me, and in that tone of deference so exquisitely flattering from one we already know to be superior he requested my decision; observing that, from the manner in which he had seen me examine the details of the architecture, he could not be mistaken in his confidence that I was a connoisseur.  All eyes were turned upon me.  As a shy man, this made me blush; as a vain man, the blush was accompanied with delight.  It might easily have happened that such an appeal, acting at once upon shyness and ignorance, would have inflamed my wrath; but the appeal happening to be directed on a point which I had recently investigated and thoroughly mastered, I was flattered at the opportunity of a victorious display.

The pleasure of my triumph diffused itself over my feelings towards him who had been the occasion of it.  The Frenchman was silenced; the general verdict of the company was too obviously on our side.  From this time the conversation continued between Bourgonef and myself; and he not only succeeded in entirely dissipating my absurd antipathy—­which I now saw to have been founded on purely imaginary grounds, for neither the falseness nor the furtiveness could now be detected—­but he succeeded in captivating all my sympathy.  Long after dinner was over, and the salle empty, we sat smoking our cigars, and discussing politics, literature, and art in that suggestive desultory manner which often gives a charm to casual acquaintances.

It was a stirring epoch, that of February, 1848.  The Revolution, at first so hopeful, and soon to manifest itself in failure so disastrous, was hurrying to an outburst.  France had been for many months agitated by cries of electoral reform, and by indignation at the corruption and scandals in high places.  The Praslin murder, and the dishonor of M. Teste, terminated by suicide, had been interpreted as signs of the coming destruction.  The political banquets given in various important cities had been occasions for inflaming the public mind, and to the far-seeing, these banquets were interpreted as the sounds of the tocsin.  Louis Philippe had become odious to France, and contemptible to Europe.  Guizot and Duchatel, the ministers of that day, although backed by a parliamentary majority on which they blindly relied, were unpopular, and were regarded as infatuated even by their admirers in Europe.  The Spanish marriages had all but led to a war with England.  The Opposition, headed by Thiers and Odillon Barrot, was strengthened by united action with the republican party, headed by Ledru Rollin, Marrast, Flocon, and Louis Blanc.