"Is that all you came for?" asked the wife, at the same time somewhat calmed by the entrance of a stranger. Jasmin interposed--

"Yes, my dear--certainly; but---" "Your wife is right, sir," said Nodier, thinking that the quarrel was about some debts he had incurred.

"Truly, sir," rejoined Jasmin; "if you were a lover of poetry, you would not find it so easy to renounce it."

" Poetry?" said Nodier; " I know a little about that myself."

"What!" replied Jasmin, "so much the better. You will be able to help me out of my difficulties."

"You must not expect any help from me, for I presume you are oppressed with debts."

"Ha, ha!" cried Jasmin, "it isn't debts, it's verses, Sir."

"Yes, indeed," said the wife, "it's verses, always verses! Isn't it horrible?"

"Will you let me see what you have written?" asked Nodier, turning to Jasmin.

"By all means, sir. Here is a specimen." The verses began:

"Femme ou démon, ange ou sylphide, Oh! par pitié, fuis, laisse-moi! Doux miel d'amour n'est que poison perfide, Mon coeur a trop souffert, il dort, éloigne-toi.

"Je te l'ai dit, mon coeur sommeille; Laisse-le, de ses maux à peine il est guéri, Et j'ai peur que ta voix si douce à mon oreille Par un chant d'amour ne l'éveille, Lui, que l'amour a taut meurtri!"

This was only about a fourth part of the verses which Jasmin had composed.² Nodier confessed that he was greatly pleased with them. Turning round to the wife he said, "Madame, poetry knocks at your door; open it. That which inspires it is usually a noble heart and a distinguished spirit, incapable of mean actions. Let your husband make his verses; it may bring you good luck and happiness."

Then, turning to the poet, and holding out his hand, he asked, "What is your name, my friend?"

"Jacques Jasmin," he timidly replied. "A good name," said Nodier. "At the same time, while you give fair play to your genius, don't give up the manufacture of periwigs, for this is an honest trade, while verse- making might prove only a frivolous distraction."

Nodier then took his leave, but from that time forward Jasmin and he continued the best of friends. A few years later, when the first volume of the Papillôtos appeared, Nodier published his account of the above interview in Le Temps. He afterwards announced in the Quotidienne the outburst of a new poet on the banks of the Garonne--a poet full of piquant charm, of inspired harmony--a Lamartine, a Victor Hugo, a Gascon Béranger!

After Nodier's departure, Madame Jasmin took a more favourable view of the versification of her husband. She no longer chided him. The shop became more crowded with customers. Ladies came to have their hair dressed by the poet: it was so original! He delighted them with singing or chanting his verses. He had a sympathetic, perhaps a mesmeric voice, which touched the souls of his hearers, and threw them into the sweetest of dreams.

Besides attending to his shop, he was accustomed to go out in the afternoons to dress the hair of four or five ladies. This occupied him for about two hours, and when he found the ladies at home, he returned with four or five francs in his purse. But often they were not at home, and he came home francless. Eventually he gave up this part of his trade. The receipts at the shop were more remunerative. Madame encouraged this economical reform; she was accustomed to call it Jasmin's coup d'état.