Othersofthefamilywentdownintothecityalmostdaily，butheremainedinthatstillgardenwithJoanashiscompanion——theoldSieurdeConte，saturatedwithmemories，pouringoutthatmarvelousandtragictale。Attheendofeachdayhewouldreadtotheotherswhathehadwritten，totheirenjoymentandwonder。
HowrapidlyheworkedmaybejudgedfromaletterwhichhewrotetoHallinFebruary，inwhichhesaid：
Iamwritingacompanionpieceto’ThePrinceandthePauper’，whichishalfdone&willmake200，000words。
Thatistosay，hehadwrittenonehundredthousandwordsinaperiodofperhapssixweeks，marvelousworkwhenoneremembersthatafterallhewaswritinghistory，someofwhichhemustdiglaboriouslyfromaforeignsource。Hehadalways，moreorless，keptuphisstudyoftheFrench，begunsolongagoontheriveranditstoodhimingoodsteadnow。
Still，itwasnevereasyforhim，andthemultitudeofnotesalongthemarginofhisFrenchauthoritiesbearsevidenceofhisfaithfulnessandthemagnitudeofhistoil。Nopreviousworkhadeverrequiredsomuchofhim，suchthoroughknowledge；nonehadeversocompletelycommandedhisinterest。Hewouldhavebeenwillingtoremainshutawayfromvisitors，tohavebeenreleasedaltogetherfromsocialobligations；andhedidavoidmostofthem。Notall，forhecouldnotalwaysescape，andperhapsdidnotalwaysreallywishto。Florenceanditssuburbswerefullofdelightfulpeople——someofthemhisoldfriends。Therewereluncheons，dinners，teas，dances，concerts，operasalwaysinprogresssomewhere，andnotalloftheseweretoberesistedevenbyanabsorbedauthorwhowasnolongerhimself，butsadoldSieurdeConte，followingagainthebanneroftheMaidofOrleans，marshalinghertwilightarmiesacrosshisilluminedpage。