History must lose the curious conversations that went on between these
four persons whom accident had so strangely united in this carriage,
for it is impossible to report the hundred and more versions which
went the round of Nantes on the remarks, replies, and witticisms which
the viscountess heard from the lips of the celebrated Camille Maupin
/herself/. She was, however, very careful not to repeat, not even to
comprehend, the actual replies made by Mademoiselle des Touches to her
absurd questions about Camille's authorship,--a penance to which all
authors are subjected, and which often make them expiate the few and
rare pleasures that they win.
"How do you write your books?" she began.
"Much as you do your worsted-work or knitting," replied Camille.
"But where do you find those deep reflections, those seductive
pictures?"
"Where you find the witty things you say, madame; there is nothing so
easy as to write books, provided you will--"
"Ah! does it depend wholly on the will? I shouldn't have thought it.
Which of your compositions do you prefer?"
"I find it difficult to prefer any of my little kittens.
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