humour, skill in picturesque narrative, and his native sense of the dramatic, but all without any very definite aim. He had vowed, he tells us, to write the history of France in fiction, but, as we have seen, he had made little progress.
At this juncture the great man made the acquaintance of an unknown, unappreciated writer, named Auguste Maquet. The latter wrote a short story, in which he had great faith, and had the mortification of seeing it refused by an editor. Let Charles Reade (who supplies these details, in his "Eighth Commandment") take up the story:
"As Maquet paced the boulevards, smarting, he met Dumas, who asked him if he had nothing 'by him.'
"'I have only the "Bonhomme Buvat,"' said Maquet, sorrowfully.
"Dumas pricked up his ears. 'That is a good title,' he said. 'Come, tell me something about your "Bonhomme."'
"Maquet glowed, and poured out a part of his story.
"'That will do: send me the manuscript,' said Dumas. 'I am off to Italy to-night.'
"Dumas took the 'Buvat' with him, worked on him, and in a few weeks it came out and charmed all Europe as the 'Chevalier d'Harmental.'"
"And then," adds Reade, "began that intellec-
