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e wild fellows Who built the high house at which Heaven turn'd jealous； Making human audacity stumble and stammer When seized by the throat in the hard gripe of Grammar。 But the language of languages dearest to me Is that in which once； O ma toute cherie； When； together； we bent o'er your nosegay for hours； You explain'd what was silently said by the flowers； And； selecting the sweetest of all； sent a flame Through my heart； as； in laughing； you murmur'd Je t'aime。
XII。
The Italians have voices like peacocks； the Spanish Smell； I fancy； of garlic； the Swedish and Danish Have something too Runic； too rough and unshod； in Their accents for mouths not descended from Odin； German gives me a cold in the head； sets me wheezing And coughing； and Russian is nothing but sneezing； But； by Belus and Babel！ I never have heard； And I never shall hear （I well know it）； one word Of that delicate idiom of Paris without Feeling morally sure； beyond question or doubt； By the wild way in which my heart inwardly flutter'd That my heart's native tongue to my heart had been utter'd And whene'er I hear French spoken as I approve I feel myself quietly falling in love。
XIII。
Lord Alfred； on hearing the stranger； appeased By a something； an accent； a cadence； which pleased His ear with that pledge of good breeding which tells At once of the world in whose fellowship dwells The speaker that owns it； was glad to remark In the horseman a man one might meet after dark Without fear。 And thus； not disagreeably impress'd； As it seem'd； with each other； the two men abreast Rode on slowly a moment。
XIV。
STRANGER。
I see； Sir； you are A smoker。 Allow me！
ALFRED。
Pray take a cigar。
STRANGER。
Many thanks！ 。 。 。 Such cigars are a luxury here。 Do you go to Luchon？
ALFRED。
Yes； and you？
STRANGER。
Yes。 I fear； Since our road is the same； that our journey must be Somewhat closer than is our acquaintance。 You see How narrow the path is。 I'm tempted to ask Your permission to finish （no difficult task！） The cigar you have given me （really a prize！） In your company。
ALFRED。
Charm'd； Sir； to find your road lies In the way of my own inclinations！ Indeed The dream of your nation I find in this weed。 In the distant Savannahs a talisman grows That makes all men brothers that use it 。 。 。 who knows？ That blaze which erewhile from the Boulevart out…broke； It has ended where wisdom begins； Sir；in smoke。 Messieurs Lopez （whatever your publicists write） Have done more in their way human kind to unite； Perchance； than ten Prudhons。
STRANGER。
Yes。 Ah； what a scene！
ALFRED。
Humph！ Nature is here too pretentious。 Her mien Is too haughty。 One likes to be coax'd； not compell'd； To the notice such beauty resents if withheld。 She seems to be saying too plainly； 〃Admire me！〃 And I answer； 〃Yes； madam； I do： but you tire me。〃
STRANGER。
That sunset； just now though 。 。 。
ALFRED。
A very old trick！ One would think that the sun by this time must be sick Of blushing at what； by this time； he must know Too well to be shocked bythis world。
STRANGER。
Ah； 'tis so With us all。 'Tis the sinner that best knew the world At Twenty； whose lip is； at sixty； most curl'd With disdain of its follies。 You stay at Luchon？
ALFRED。
A day or two only。
STRANGER。
The season is done。
ALFRED。
Already？
STRANGER。
'Twas shorter this year than the last。 Folly soon wears her shoes out。 She dances so fast We are all of us tired。
ALFRED。
You know the place well？
STRANGER。
I have been there two seasons。
ALFRED。
Pray who is the Belle Of the Baths at this moment？
STRANGER。
The same who has been The belle of all places in which she is seen； The belle of all Paris last winter； last spring The belle of all Baden。
ALFRED。
An uncommon thing！
STRANGER。
Sir； an uncommon beauty！ 。 。 。 I rather should say An uncommon character。 Truly； each day One meets women whose beauty is equal to hers； But none with the charm of Lucile de Nevers。
ALFRED。
Madame de Nevers！
STRANGER。
Do you know her？
ALFRED。
I know Or； rather； I knew hera long time ago。 I almost forget 。 。 。
STRANGER。
What a wit！ what a grace In her language！ her movements！ what play in her face！ And yet what a sadness she seems to conceal！
ALFRED。
You speak like a lover。
STRANGER。
I speak as I feel； But not like a lover。 What interests me so In Lucile； at the same time forbids me； I know； To give to that interest； whate'er the sensation； The name we men give to an hour's admiration； A night's passing passion； an actress's eyes； A dancing girl's ankles； a fine lady's sighs。
ALFRED。
Yes； I quite comprehend。 But this sadnessthis shade Which you speak of？ 。 。 。 it almost would make me afraid Your gay countrymen； Sir； less adroit must have grown； Since when； as a stripling； at Paris； I own I found in them terrible rivals；if yet They have all lack'd the skill to console this regret （If regret be the word I should use）； or fulfil This desire （if desire be the word）； which seems still To endure unappeased。 For I take it for granted； From all that you say； that the will was not wanted。
XV。
The stranger replied； not without irritation： 〃I have heard that an Englishmanone of your nation I presumeand if so； I must beg you； indeed； To excuse the contempt which I 。 。 。〃
ALFRED。
Pray； Sir； proceed With your tale。 My compatriot； what was his crime？
STRANGER。
Oh； nothing！ His folly was not so sublime As to merit that term。 If I blamed him just now； It was not for the sin； but the silliness。
ALFRED。
How？
STRANGER。
I own I hate Botany。 Still； 。 。 。 dmit； Although I myself have no passion for it； And do not understand； yet I cannot despise The cold man of science； who walks with his eyes All alert through a garden of flowers； and strips The lilies' gold tongues； and the roses' red lips； With a ruthless dissection； since he； I suppose； Has some purpose beyond the mere mischief he does。 But the stupid and mischievous boy； that uproots The exotics； and tramples the tender young shoots； For a boy's brutal pastime； and only because He knows no distinction 'twixt heartsease and haws； One would wish； for the sake of each nursling so nipp'd； To catch the young rascal and have him well whipp'd！
ALFRED。
Some compatriot of mine； do I then understand； With a cold Northern heart； and a rude English hand； Has injured your Rosebud of France？
STRANGER。
Sir； I know But little； or nothing。 Yet some faces show The last act of a tragedy in their regard： Though the first scenes