It was more his part to say what he thought and take the
consequences, and he felt sure that the word would spread of itself,
without his hawking it about. He would have blushed to admit it, but
perhaps a secret instinct held him back from the offers of service
made him by this eager "drummer." But he could not altogether restrain
his zeal. Thouron published in his paper a sort of Apologia for
Clerambault. He told of his visits, and their conversations; and he
explained and paraphrased the thoughts of the poet. Clerambault was
astonished when he read them, he hardly knew his own ideas again, but
nevertheless, he could not altogether deny them, for, buried among
Thouron's commentaries, he found literal and accurate quotations from
his letters. These, however, were even more confusing; the same words
and phrases, grafted on other contexts, took on an accent and a colour
that he had not given them. Add that the censor, in his zeal for the
safety of the country, had tampered with the quotations, cutting out
here and there a word, half a line, or the end of a paragraph--all
perfectly innocent, but this suppression suggested the worst
iniquities to the over-excited mind of the reader. All this was like
oil on the flame, and the effect was soon felt. Clerambault did not
know which way to turn to keep his champion quiet; and yet he could
not be angry with him, for Thouron had his share of threats and
insults; but he was used to things of this kind, and they fell from
him, like water off a duck's back.
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