worldly pettiness by solitude! THEY would know how to give to it
the melodious rhythm that it lacks, which might have made it, in
the hands of a poet, the glorious epic that France still awaits.
But from me they must accept it as one of those sculptured
balustrades, carved by a hand of faith, on which the pilgrims
lean, in the choir of some glorious church, to think upon the end
of man.

I am, madame, with respect,
Your devoted servant,
De Balzac.



SERAPHITA



CHAPTER I

SERAPHITUS

As the eye glances over a map of the coasts of Norway, can the
imagination fail to marvel at their fantastic indentations and
serrated edges, like a granite lace, against which the surges of the
North Sea roar incessantly? Who has not dreamed of the majestic sights
to be seen on those beachless shores, of that multitude of creeks and
inlets and little bays, no two of them alike, yet all trackless
abysses? We may almost fancy that Nature took pleasure in recording by
ineffaceable hieroglyphics the symbol of Norwegian life, bestowing on