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 of a slightly official character; all he could do was to smile, but his smile is enough for three. If I could write about his books, his poetical democracy, his genial optimism, it would be the merriest of my letters; but as I have taken it into my head to write only about what I have seen with my own eyes, I will describe to you a capacious gentleman, whose ample structure recalls Viktor Dyk; he has a musketeer moustache and modest, shrewd eyes beneath pince-nez, hands which are embraces, as the hands of stout people