it maltreats those delicate walls as a truckman maltreats a pair of
young horses; the plexus nerves inflame, they burn and send their
flashes to the brain. Thereupon everything leaps into action; thoughts
and ideas rush pell-mell over one another, like battalions of the grand
army on the field of battle, and the battle takes place. Recollections
arrive in a headlong charge, with banners flying; the light cavalry of
comparisons advances in a magnificent gallop; the artillery of logic
hurries up with its gun-carriages and ammunition; flashes of wit arrive
like so many sharp-shooters; the action develops; the paper slowly
covers over with ink, for the night's work has begun, and it will end
in torrents of black water, like the battle in torrents of black
powder."

In spite of the alarming benefits which Balzac attributes to this
regime, one is amazed at the abundance of his productions, for, even
though he sacrificed a large part of his days and nights, he none the
less frequented certain famous salons, was often absent on vacations at
M. de Margonne's home at Sache; at La Grenadiere, where he rented a
house; and at Nemours. Besides, he had to spare some time to his
friends, his publishers, and to the adjustment of his already
complicated finances.

With his remarkably keen sense of realities, he knew that it did not
suffice merely to produce a work in order to have it become known and
sell; and, while it was repugnant to him to solicit an article from a
fellow craftsman, he excelled in the art of exciting curiosity, and
acquiring partisans and women admirers who, upon the publication of
each new volume, would loudly proclaim it as a masterpiece. He was on
intimate terms with the Duchesse d'Abrantes and Mme. Sophie Gay; he was
received by the Baron Gerard and by Mme. Ancelot; he announced to his