it, and the cut of her gown and shape of her hat will insensibly beguile you into altering yours. Nor, in the case of the young gentlemen of Great Britain, would I imply that long residence in Paris will affect their excellent tailoring, or turn them into the overdressed popinjays of the boulevards. The Englishman and the Parisian woman will always remain the best-dressed of their kind wherever they may live; and, while the Frenchman, in morals and manners, can descend to odious depths unsuspected by the blunt and open-minded Saxon, he can also, when the race shows him at his best, reveal virtues of subtler and more captivating quality. I know no form of young man more charming than a good young Frenchman, and can never understand why he figures so little in French fiction. There is nothing of the prig about him. He does not spend his days in being shocked at his neighbour; he is under no compulsion to be narrow and dull; he does not quote the Bible, nor does he desire, like the British virtuous youth, to mould all humanity upon his own stiff and starched effigy. His wisdom is woven with a great deal of gaiety; and when he happens to be dull, he carries off his dulness with an imperturbable amiability. This type of Frenchman a woman will never find offensive. He can oblige her with simplicity, and courtesy and gentleness are the most distinctive features of his character.
