Almost always in life the third person is a discord, or at
least a burden; but he is so genial, so diffusive, so sympathetic, that,
like some tints by which painters know how to bring out all the other
colors in a picture, he forces every one to do his best. I am indebted to
him already for a better knowledge of some men and women with whom I had
talked for years before to little purpose. It is most wonderful that he
produces this effect, because he himself is so silent; but there is some
secret charm in his very smile which puts people _en rapport_ with each
other, and with him at once.
I am almost afraid to go on with the list of the things my companion can
do. I have not yet told the half, nor the most wonderful; and I believe I
have already overtaxed credulity. I will mention only one more,--but that
is to me far more inexplicable than all the rest. I am sure that it
belongs, with mesmerism and clairvoyance, to the domain of the higher
psychological mysteries. He has in rare hours the power of producing the
portraits of persons whom you have loved, but whom he has never seen.
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