general excel."

"You are right," said Vincent, "and for this reason--with you les gens de
letters are always les gens du monde. Hence their quick perceptions are
devoted to men as well as to books. They make observations acutely, and
embody them with grace; but it is worth remarking, that the same cause
which produced the aphorism, frequently prevents its being profound.
These literary gens du monde have the tact to observe, but not the
patience, perhaps not the time, to investigate. They make the maxim, but
they never explain to you the train of reasoning which led to it. Hence
they are more brilliant than true. An English writer would not dare to
make a maxim, involving, perhaps, in two lines, one of the most important
of moral truths, without bringing pages to support his dictum. A French
essayist leaves it wholly to itself. He tells you neither how he came by
his reasons, nor their conclusion, 'le plus fou souvent est le plus
satisfait.' Consequently, if less tedious than the English, your
reasoners are more dangerous, and ought rather to be considered as models
of terseness than of reflection. A man might learn to think sooner from
your writers, but he will learn to think justly sooner from ours. Many
observations of La Bruyere and Rochefoucault--the latter especially--have
obtained credit for truth solely from their point. They possess exactly
the same merit as the very sensible--permit me to add--very French line
in Corneille:--

"'Ma plus douce esperance est de perdre l'espoir.'"

The Maquis took advantage of the silence which followed Vincent's
criticism to rise from table. We all (except Vincent, who took leave)
adjourned to the salon. "Qui est cet homme la?" said one, "comme il est
epris de lui-meme." "How silly he is," cried another--"how ugly," said a