high, well-developed forehead. A straight nose stopped short, as if cut
off suddenly above the upper lip which was covered with a black mustache;
over the whole chin was a closely-cropped beard. The dark, often ironical
look was piercing, one felt that behind it there was a mind always
actively at work observing people, interpreting words, analyzing
gestures, uncovering the heart. This strong, round head was appropriate
to his name, quick and short, with the bounding resonance of the two
vowels.

When the journalist had fully explained his proposition, the writer
answered him that he did not wish to make any definite arrangement, that
he would, however, think the matter over, that his plans were not yet
sufficiently defined. Then he stopped. It was a dismissal, and the two
men, a little confused, arose. A desire seized Patissot; he wished this
well-known person to say something to him, anything, some word which he
could repeat to his colleagues; and, growing bold, he stammered: "Oh,
monsieur! If you knew how I appreciate your works!" The other bowed, but
answered nothing. Patissot became very bold and continued: "It is a great
honor for me to speak to you to-day." The writer once more bowed, but
with a stiff and impatient look. Patissot noticed it, and, completely
losing his head, he added as he retreated: "What a su--su
--superb property!"

Then, in the heart of the man of letters, the landowner awoke, and,
smiling, he opened the window to show them the immense stretch of view.
An endless horizon broadened out on all sides, giving a view of Triel,
Pisse-Fontaine, Chanteloup, all the heights of Hautrie, and the Seine as
far as the eye could see. The two visitors, delighted, congratulated him,
and the house was opened to them. They saw everything, down to the dainty
kitchen, whose walls and even ceilings were covered with porcelain tiles