for his daughter. I rushed forward at full speed, as you may imagine,
into Edmee's ideas, but I had not, like herself, sufficient delicacy of
feeling to maintain a becoming reticence. The violence of my character
found an outlet in politics and philosophy, and I tasted unspeakable
pleasure in those heated disputes which at that time in France, not
only at all public meetings but also in the bosoms of families, were
preluding the tempests of the Revolution. I doubt if there was a single
house, from palace to hovel, which had not its orator--rugged, fiery,
absolute, and ready to descend into the parliamentary arena. I was the
orator of the chateau of Sainte-Severe, and my worthy uncle, accustomed
to a resemblance of authority over those about him, which prevented him
from seeing the real revolt of their minds, could ill endure such candid
opposition as mine. He was proud and hot-tempered, and, moreover, had a
difficulty in expressing himself which increased his natural impatience,
and made him feel annoyed with himself. He would give a furious kick to
the burning logs on the hearth; he would smash his eye-glasses into a
thousand pieces; scatter clouds of snuff about the floor, and shout so
violently as to make the lofty ceilings of his mansion ring with his
resonant voice. All this, I regret to say, amused me immensely; and with
some sentence but newly spelt out from my books I loved to destroy the
frail scaffolding of ideas which had served him all his life. This was
great folly and very foolish pride on my part; but my love of opposition
and my desire to display intellectually the energy which was wanting in
my physical life were continually carrying me away. In vain would Edmee
cough, as a hint that I should say no more, and make an effort to save
her father's _amour propre_ by bringing forward some argument in his
favour, though against her own judgement; the lukewarmness of her help,
and my apparent submission to her only irritated my adversary more and
more.