"Now you're asking me the question we've been asking ourselves for the last ten years.... The man fumbling at his shirt collar over yonder is the celebrated Villiers de L'Isle Adam."
And I remember how it pleased me to tell this simple-minded woman all I knew about Villiers.
"He has no talent whatever, only genius, and that is why he is a raté," I said.
But the woman was not so simple as I had imagined, and one or two questions she put to me led me to tell her that Villiers's genius only appeared in streaks, like gold in quartz.
"The comparison is an old one, but there is no better one to explain Villiers, for when he is not inspired his writing is very like quartz."
"His great name----"
"His name is part of his genius. He chose it, and it has influenced his writings. Have I not heard him say, 'Car je porte en moi les richesses stériles d'un grand nombre de rois oubliés.'"
"But is he a legitimate descendant?"
"Legitimate in the sense that he desired the name more than any of those who ever bore it legitimately."
At that moment Villiers passed by me, and I introduced him to her, and very soon he began to tell us that his Eve had just been published, and the success of it was great.