that the journal in question is designed for circulation among readers of
_haute classe_ it is to be pleasant and airy, full of _bons mots_ and
anecdote; witty, but not ill-natured. Politics to be Liberal, of course,
but of elegant admixture,--champagne and seltzer-water. In fact,
however, I suspect that the politics will be a very inconsiderable
feature in this organ of fine arts and manners; some amateur scribbler in
the _beau monde_ will supply them. For the rest, if my introductory
letters are successful, Madame de Grantmesnil will not be in bad
company."

"You will write to Madame de Grantmesnil?" asked Rameau, pleadingly.

"Certainly I will, as soon--"

"As soon as you have the prospectus, and the names of the
collaborateurs," interrupted Rameau. "I hope to send you these in a very
few days."

While Rameau was thus speaking, Savarin had seated himself by the table,
and his eye mechanically resting on the open manuscript lighted by chance
upon a sentence--an aphorism--embodying a very delicate sentiment in very
felicitous diction,--one of those choice condensations of thought,
suggesting so much more than is said, which are never found in mediocre
writers, and, rare even in the best, come upon us like truths seized by
surprise.

"Parbleu!" exclaimed Savarin, in the impulse of genuine admiration, "but
this is beautiful; what is more, it is original,"--and he read the words
aloud. Blushing with shame and resentment, Isaura turned and hastily
placed her hand on the manuscript.