With him, as
happens so rarely, an intimate knowledge of historic detail is the
secret of life, of the impression of life; puts his own imagination
on the wing; secures the imaginative cooperation of the reader. A
stately age--to us, perhaps, in the company of the historic muse,
seeming even more stately than it actually was--it is pleasant to
find it, as we do now and again on these pages, in graceful
deshabille. With perfect lightness of touch, M. Filon seems to have
a complete command of all the physiognomic details of old France, of
old Paris and its people--how they made a holiday; how they got at
the news; the fashions. Did the English reader ever hear before of
the beautifully dressed doll which came once a month [139] from Paris
to Soho to teach an expectant world of fashion how to dress itself?
Old Paris! For young lovers at their windows; for every one
fortunate enough to have seen it: "Qu'il est joli ce paysage du Paris
nocturne d'il y a cent ans!" We think we shall best do justice to an
unusually pretty book by taking one of M. Filon's stories (not
because we are quite sure it is the cleverest of them) with a view to
the more definite illustration of his method, therein.
Pages:
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