talking together, a poor Italian was shown in, begging for help. The author was, as usual, at the end of his resources, but that did not check his charitable desire.
"My friend," he said, "I am no richer than you are; I have nothing, but I can never send away with empty hands a man who is in want. Take down one of those pistols from the mantelpiece; go and sell it, and leave me the other for the next poor devil that the good God may send to me for relief."
Theodore de Banville tells us in his "Souvenirs " how a poor starving devil, Montjoye by name, was ready to take his life in despair, when the thought of Dumas came to him like an inspiration from heaven. He found the great man deserted—all the servants had gone a-holidaying—but the host hurried into the kitchen, and prepared with his own hands a feast for the gods, for this stranger. It is a pleasant picture that the poet sets before us—the penniless beggar eating, and making witty remarks on the dishes as he attacked them, and Dumas beaming with delight and roaring with laughter, as he heaped the strange guest's plate with good things.
But the charity which gives money only is not complete in the great apostle's sense, and happily Dumas had his full share of that other and greater generosity. Of such was his surprise for Maquet,
