Therefore your fifteen years of war are now ideas and nothing more;
that which preserves the Empire forever is the poem that the poets
make of them. A nation that can win such battles must know how to sing
them."
Canalis paused, to gather by a glance that ran round the circle the
tribute of amazement which he expected of provincials.
"You must be aware, monsieur, of the regret I feel at not seeing you,"
said Madame Mignon, "since you compensate me with the pleasure of
hearing you."
Modeste, determined to think Canalis sublime, sat motionless with
amazement; the embroidery slipped from her fingers, which held it only
by the needleful of thread.
"Modeste, this is Monsieur Ernest de La Briere. Monsieur Ernest, my
daughter," said the count, thinking the secretary too much in the
background.
The young girl bowed coldly, giving Ernest a glance that was meant to
prove to every one present that she saw him for the first time.
"Pardon me, monsieur," she said without blushing; "the great
admiration I feel for the greatest of our poets is, in the eyes of my
friends, a sufficient excuse for seeing only him.
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