Gaudissart in the mart is at least the equal of his illustrious
namesake, now become the typical commercial traveler. Take him away
from his shop and his line of business, he is like a collapsed
balloon; only among his bales of merchandise do his faculties return,
much as an actor is sublime only upon the boards. A French shopman is
better educated than his fellows in other European countries; he can
at need talk asphalt, Bal Mabille, polkas, literature, illustrated
books, railways, politics, parliament, and revolution; transplant him,
take away his stage, his yardstick, his artificial graces; he is
foolish beyond belief; but on his own boards, on the tight-rope of the
counter, as he displays a shawl with a speech at his tongue's end, and
his eye on his customer, he puts the great Talleyrand into the shade;
he is a match for a Monrose and a Moliere to boot. Talleyrand in his
own house would have outwitted Gaudissart, but in the shop the parts
would have been reversed.

An incident will illustrate the paradox.

Two charming duchesses were chatting with the above-mentioned great
diplomatist. The ladies wished for a bracelet; they were waiting for
the arrival of a man from a great Parisian jeweler. A Gaudissart
accordingly appeared with three bracelets of marvelous workmanship.
The great ladies hesitated. Choice is a mental lightning flash;
hesitate--there is no more to be said, you are at fault. Inspiration
in matters of taste will not come twice. At last, after about ten
minutes the Prince was called in. He saw the two duchesses confronting
doubt with its thousand facets, unable to decide between the
transcendent merits of two of the trinkets, for the third had been set
aside at once. Without leaving his book, without a glance at the