to William Archer

[Saranac, Spring 1888?]

MY DEAR ARCHER,—It happened thus.  I came forth from that performance in a breathing heat of indignation.  (Mind, at this distance of time and with my increased knowledge, I admit there is a problem in the piece; but I saw none then, except a problem in brutality; and I still consider the problem in that case not established.)  On my way down the Français stairs, I trod on an old gentleman’s toes, whereupon with that suavity that so well becomes me, I turned about to apologise, and on the instant, repenting me of that intention, stopped the apology midway, and added something in French to this effect: No, you are one of the lâches who have been applauding that piece.  I retract my apology.  Said the old Frenchman, laying his hand on my arm, and with a smile that was truly heavenly in temperance, irony, good-nature, and knowledge of the world, ‘Ah, monsieur, vous êtes bien jeune!’—Yours very truly,

Robert Louis Stevenson.