Lemuel coughed slightly and appeared wrapped in thought a moment. Finally he spoke:—
“I do not know but that I am permitting my good nature to get the better of my duty, but I will not make mention of your escapade. But I wish it distinctly understood that this must not be repeated, and that you go home at once. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. It is no place for you. You, a teacher, an instructor of youth, a man of sixty, one whose duty it is to form the morals of American youth, one to whose care is entrusted inexperienced youth, to be seen in such a place and in such a company. It is too much, and would not sound well in the West. For shame. As I said, it must not be repeated. Go. I now see why you were so willing that I should go to the Opera, and why you exacted of me a promise that I should not come here. You intended to come here by yourself, and did not want me to be a witness to your shame. But go! I forgive you! I forgive you.”
The Professor went, and as soon as he was safely away, Lemuel took the seat he had vacated, and was presently engaged in a very pleasant conversation with the lady who spoke English somewhat.
The Professor’s guardianship will not be of much use to the pleasure-seeking youth. Professors have curiosity, which they generally gratify, in one way or another. Poor humanity!
The café is the Frenchman’s especial resort, however. They are everywhere and of all classes, and from six to twelve at night are full. The regular Frenchman sees his friends here; business is transacted here; the political questions of the day are discussed, and here nations are made and unmade. In foul weather the inside is crowded; in fair, the little tables on the sidewalk under the beautiful trees are all occupied. And these little tables outside afford never-failing pleasure, to any one, native or foreign. There is a constant ebb and flow of humanity along the streets; there the costumes of all nations and the manners and customs of the world are reproduced for your benefit. Americans, English, Germans, Turks, Tunisians, West Indians, Carribeans, Russians, and Polanders. If there is a nation on earth that is not represented in the Boulevard des Italiens or any of the principal streets, any fine night, I do not know of it.
