Morning journal and courier., 1884-05-19
AIphonse Daudet's Home.
Pen Sketch of the Famous Character
 fstic French Writer.

l fstic French Writer.
 Paris Correspondence of London Society," Alphonse Daudet was the second Parisiau celebrity who admitted me into his sRnctu n. It was no reception to which I was invited this time, for the author of "Les Rois on Exil" visits in literary circles, but in his own house leads quiet life. He expressed this in few words when he said to me: HGenius and irregularity are not any longer synony- nous; to-day we are before all else workers and respectable people; we marry, we have children and we lead a family life.' Ger tsinly his home is singularly well protected against any intruder. He lives in the Boule- yard de rObservatoirs, not far from the statue of Marschal Ney, that hapless victim of his devotion to the modern Casar. From the window of Daudet's room you have the most splendid view you can imagine of the park, with it's white and graceful statues of Greek goddesses; but you have to climb be- fore you can reach the little nest where the celebrated writer hides his happiness For 8 moment felt astonished that the man who is SO popular all over the world and whose books sell by the million was not living in 8 house of his own, but in a Hat au troisieme. The door was guarded by a maid servant,
 
 suffer anyone to cross the threshold and never left of telling me that her master was out, though had told her that was expect ed. Happily, caught sight of Daudet's sec- retary, who was just then busy telling per son, who also wished to see the great man, that there was no chance of such thing, as M. Daudet was suffering and did not receive any visitors. I went up to this young man, however, and as soon as had shown him the letter bidding me come, he saw me into one of those charming, small boudoir-hke draw ing-rooms which are to be found all over Paris. I was not kept waiting very long be- fore AIphonse Daudet entered the saloon and bade me follow him into his study, 8 still smaller apartment, well nigh entirely filled up by large desk, 8 sofa and some easy chairs. Daudet is 8 man of middle height broad shouldered, with a splendid head, a perfect picture of southern Frenchman. His skin is very brown and ms ss of dark long hair encircles face whose features are almost perfect. There is little grasseye- ment in his voice which makes you think of Henri Ie Balafre and the manacle he con- stantly wears gives 8 singular penetrating look to his large brown eyes.
 He told me how much he had suffered of late from nenralgic paina-"dans Ia region du cosur"-which had prevented him from working, writing and even thinking. He was sure he had contracted this during the time of the war, when he and all his friends had IQlnlle0 LQe 0ubl6S OA COA4GuOA SOA040AS anu had held night watches in the bittsE.cold, as well as other things no less trying for con- stitutions never accustomed to such modes of life. He told me he never gave receptions: ssIt is all very we'll for M. Victor Hugo and his friends, for they are great men, but live quite a patriachal life and for the rest-why, you see, my divan is very small" Daudet went on to tell me how he was literally in- undated by letters from unknown people, some wanting to express their admiration, some begging for his autograph, others ask ing him for some explanation concerning his books. It was impossible, he said, to answer them all, and accordingly he had taken the resolution never to make any reply.
 One of the questions which had been put him most frequently of late was whether ''LEvangeliste'' contained @ true story. Pointing out one of the drawers of his desk he added: ''It is so true that all the letters of that poor girl and her money are lying there, and l could show you how I only copied most of them textually, without alter ing word. The unfortunate mother occa= sio1ally comes here, as my wife feels the greatest compassion for her, and helps her as much as she can, for she lives in the bitter est misery" While still talking he was dis turbed by the opening of the door and the entrance of one of the most lovely children have eyer seen; little boy of about years with long fair hair descending to the waist and such fine features that thought him to be girl, till Alphonse Daudet exclaimed: ''Well, Eucien, what do you come for9" sssJea viens chercher des meilIeures plumes; js ne