“I have Amadis de Gaule.”
“I have read that.”
“Geneviève de Cornouailles.”
“I’ve read it.”
“The Chevaliers du Cygne.”
“I’ve read it. I’ve read all the old books of that sort. Give me a new one.”
“Why, romances of chivalry are seldom written nowadays.”
“What’s that! seldom written? Why aren’t they written, pray? You must have some written, madame; you must order some from your novel writers.”
“They say that they are no longer in vogue, monsieur.”
“They don’t know what they are talking about; there is nothing else so good; that is the true type of novel. But these modern authors do not understand the taste of their readers. They write books in which they aim to be bright and realistic. They draw pictures of society, as if such things could be compared with a description of a tournament! In the old days they used to write much better novels. Those of the younger Crébillon were not without merit; those of Mademoiselle de Scudéry were a little too long, I admit; but Le Sopha, Le Bijoux Indiscrets, and Angola—those are fine stories, sparkling with delectable details!”