As long as Mrs. Thoresen was present, he
naturally addressed his conversation to her and expressed himself, as
his habit was, without much ceremony. For instance, he said: "I don't as
a rule care for women writers, not even for those we have; but I will
concede that, of all the ladies who write, you are the freshest." When
Mrs. Thoresen brought the conversation round to her favourite subject,
love, he said, banteringly: "My heart is like the flags of the Zouave
Regiments, so pierced with holes that it is almost impossible to tell
what the material originally looked like."
On the whole, he was animated and polite, but his glance was somewhat
stinging.
Goldschmidt had greater difficulty in hitting on the right manner to
adopt towards a much younger man. He used expressions which showed that
he was standing on his dignity, and was all the time conscious of his
own superiority. "People have spoken about you to me," he said, "and I
know you by name." The word here rendered _people_ had a strangely
foreign sound, as though translated, or affected.
"Have you read Taine's History of English Literature?" he asked.
"No, I don't know it."
"Ah, perhaps you are one of those who regard it as superfluous to learn
about anything foreign. We have enough of our own, is it not so? It is a
very widespread opinion, but it is a mistake.
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