And the grouch grouched inside him, through all.
They seemed to have been specially fertile in imagining themselves "under the wigwam," do these Americans, just when their knees were comfortably under the mahogany, in Paris, along with the knees of
4 Counts
2 Cardinals
1 Milord
5 Cocottes
1 Humble self.
You bet, though, that when the cocottes were being raffled off, Fenimore went home to his
| Wish Fulfilment | Actuality | |
| THE WIGWAM | vs. | MY HOTEL |
| CHINGACHGOOK | vs. | MY WIFE |
| NATTY BUMPPO | vs. | MY HUMBLE SELF |
Fenimore lying in his Louis Quatorze hôtel in Paris, passionately musing about Natty Bumppo and the pathless forest, and mixing his imagination with the Cupids and Butterflies on the painted ceiling, while Mrs. Cooper was struggling with her latest gown in the next room, and déjeuner was with the Countess at eleven....
Men live by lies.
In actuality, Fenimore loved the genteel continent of Europe, and waited gasping for the newspapers to praise his WORK.
In another actuality, he loved the tomahawking continent of America, and imagined himself Natty Bumppo.
His actual desire was to be: Monsieur Fenimore Cooper, le grand écrivain americain.