in 1822, he brought out through Pollet, within the space of a few
months, The Centenarian or the Two Beringhelds, by Horace de
Saint-Aubin, in eight volumes, and The Vicar of the Ardennes, which
appeared over the same pseudonym, and for which he had requested the
collaboration of his sister and his brother-in-law, Surville.

This was a year of unbridled production. Honore lived in a state of
exaltation; one of his letters to Laure was signed, "writer for the
public and French poet at two francs a page." He had almost realised
his dream of liberty. But when this fever of writing chapter after
chapter, novel after novel, had cooled off, he realised what wretched
stuff they were, and he regretted the precious hours of his youth that
they were costing him, because of his impatience to prove his talent by
results. He admitted this to his sister, frankly and with dignity, in
the full confidence of his inborn gift.

"At all events, I am beginning to feel and estimate my strength. To
know what I am worth, and yet sacrifice the first flower of my ideas on
such stupidities! It is heart-breaking! Oh, if I only had the cash, I
would find my niche fast enough and I would write books that might last
a while!

"My ideas are changing so fast that before long my whole method will
change! In a short time the difference between the me of today and the
me of tomorrow will be the difference between a youth of twenty and a
man of thirty. I think and think, and my ideas are ripening; I realise
that nature has treated me kindly in giving me the heart and brain that
I have. Believe in me, dear sister, for I have need of some one who
believes, though I have not given up the hope of being somebody one of
these days. I realise now that Cromwell did not even have the merit of