"That is very true," Dubourg replied; "the greatest men have had their weak points. Alexander drank too much; Antiochus dressed as Bacchus to please Cleopatra; Æneas consulted the Cumæan sibyl; the Emperor Maximilian died from eating too much melon. So it's not at all surprising that Frédéric should have a too sensitive heart."
Monsieur Ménard bowed to monsieur le baron, who had given him a small specimen of his erudition; which added not a little to the respect he had already conceived for him.
"I have no definite plan," said Frédéric; "I intend, however, to visit the countries which recall interesting events, or which have given birth to illustrious men. One loves to tread the ground from which the genius sprang that has outlived so many generations. In all that surrounds us, we fancy that we recognize the great man who, by his writings, his feats of arms, or his virtues, made his birthplace famous. In a word, my friend, we are going, first of all, to Italy."
"What! can it be? Why, my own purpose, like yours, is to see a little of the world, in order to add some new light to my poor stock of knowledge. What a delightful idea! Suppose we make the journey together?"
"Gladly, my dear baron! it will be most agreeable to me, I assure you."
"Upon my honor, I am grateful to the chance that led to our meeting! What an unexpected pleasure to travel with my friend the Comte de Montreville and the learned Monsieur Ménard, to compare our reflections concerning the places we visit, to be enlightened by the observations, the friendship, and the learning of so distinguished a teacher!"
Ménard outdid himself in reverences, and began to express his thanks; but Dubourg continued earnestly, giving him no time to reply:
"What a delight to visit ancient Rome with you—and magnificent Genoa! to climb with Monsieur Ménard to the summit of Vesuvius, and even to go down into the crater, if there is no danger! How pleasant to view, in a friend's company, the tomb of Virgil and the Grotto of the Dog, and to ascend, with a profound scholar, the Tarpeian rock! What pleasures await us in Switzerland, the home of William Tell! that cradle of liberty, whose morals have retained all their purity amid revolutionary tempests! There we shall receive the most touching hospitality in every village; we shall eat cheese there, Monsieur Ménard—oh! such cheese! I don't undertake to say, however, that it's as good as the cheese in Bretagne, for there's nothing like that; a charming country, Bretagne, studded with woods, fields, and rich pastures. Ah! what fine cows they have there, Monsieur Ménard!"
Frédéric nudged Dubourg, to make him leave Bretagne, whither he constantly returned with the affection of a native.
"In Switzerland," he continued, "one often eats cheeses fifteen or twenty years old; the excellent Helvetians know the secret of keeping them for an indefinite time."