Yet he is an invalid, tormented by abscesses.

One never sees him but his neck is swollen, or his wrists enlarged by a ghastly outcrop.

But the sickly body encloses bright and sane intelligence.

I admire him because he is thoughtful and full of ideas, and can express himself faultlessly.

Recently he gave me a lesson in sociology, touching the links between the France of to-day and the France of tradition, a lesson on our origins whose plain perspicuity was a revelation to me.