"Everybody does," I said.
"Naturally. It is a novel that suggests life, blood, insight, and all that," said my host. "But of all the books you Americans have written the best is Mr. Thackeray's estimate of your American boulevardier. It was named, if I remember rightly, Tommie Fadden. I read that with much interest, and I do not think that Mr. Thackeray ever did anything better, although his story of Jane Eyre was very good indeed. Fadden was such a perfect representation of your successful American, and in reading it one can picture to one's self all the peculiar qualities of your best society. Really, I am grateful to Mr. Thackeray for his Tommie Fadden, and when you return to New York I hope you will tell him so, with my compliments."
I looked at my watch and observed that the hour was growing late.
"I am returning to Paris," said I, "so I have very little time left. Still, I wish to ask you two questions. First, did you find it hard to make a name for yourself?"
"Very," said he. "It has taken sixteen hours a day for twenty years."
"ONE MUST BE INTRODUCED"
"Then why didn't you choose an easier name, like Lang, or Johnson?" I asked.
"What is your other question?" he said, in response. "When I make a name, I make a name that will be remembered. Sienkiewicz will be remembered, whether it can be pronounced without rehearsal or not. What is your other question?"