d’Arpajon whom she had just seen turn away from the General with a troubled air. “You mustn’t expect to launch that young genius. Everybody knows that he has talent. What is utterly detestable is the Victor Hugo of the last stage, the Légende des Siècles , I forget all their names. But in the Feuilles d’Automne , the Chants du Crépuscule , there’s a great deal that’s the work of a poet, a true poet! Even in the Contemplations ,” went on the Duchess, whom none of her listeners dared to contradict, and with good reason, “there are still some quite pretty things. But I confess that I prefer not to venture farther than the Crépuscule