“As yet I cannot tell; I am almost a stranger here. A day or two will, however, enable me to choose, and then I shall return here with the intelligence.”
“That is sufficient, sir; I shall expect to see you soon.”
He waved his hand in sign to me to withdraw, and I was but too happy to follow the indication. As I hastened down the stairs, and forced my way through the crowd of persons who awaited an audience with the préfet, I heard a voice close to my ear whisper, “A word; one word with you, Monsieur.” Conceiving, however, it could not have been intended for me, to whom no face there was familiar, I passed on, and reached the court.
The noise of footsteps rapidly moving on the grave behind me induced me to turn; and I beheld a small, miserably-dressed man, whose spare and wasted form bespoke the sorest trials of poverty, advancing towards me, hat in hand.
“Will you deign me one word, Monsieur?” said he, in a voice whose tone, although that of entreaty, was yet remote from the habitual accent of one asking alms.
“You must mistake me,” said I, desirous to pass on; “I am unknown to you.”
“True, sir; but it is as a stranger I take the liberty of addressing you. I heard you say just now that you had not fixed on any place of abode in Paris; now, if I might venture to entreat your preference for this establishment, it would be too much honor for me, its poor master.”
Here he placed in my hands a small card, inscribed with the words, “Pension Bourgeoise, Rue de Mi-Carême, Boulevard Mont Parnasse, No. 46,” at top; and beneath was a paragraph, setting forth the economical fact that a man might eat, drink, and sleep for the sum of twelve francs a week, enjoying the delights of “agreeable society, pleasant environs, and all the advantages of a country residence.”
It was with difficulty I could avoid a smile at the shivering figure who ventured to present himself as an inducement to try the fare of his house. Whether my eyes did wander from the card to his countenance, or any other gesture of mine betrayed my thoughts, the old man seemed to divine what was passing in my mind, and said,—
“Monsieur will not pronounce on the 'pension' from the humble guise of its master. Let him but try it; and I promise that these poor rags, this miserable figure, has no type within the walls.”