“Here, four steps forward, as many back, a turn cramped by the conflict of neighboring dresses, two or three geometric inclinations. The cotton-spinners in the prison at Poissy make precisely the same motions.”
“But these people talk.”
“Go forward and listen; there is nothing inconsiderate about it, I assure you.”
He returns after a minute.
“What did the man say?”
“The gentleman came up briskly, smiled delicately, and, with a gesture as of a happy discoverer, he remarked that it was warm.”
“And the lady?”
“The lady’s eyes flashed. With an enchanting smile of approval, she answered that it was indeed.”
“Judge what constraint they must have imposed on themselves. The gentleman is thirty years old; for twelve years he has known his phrase; the lady is twenty-two, she has known hers for seven years. Each has made and heard the question and answer three or four thousand times, and yet they appear to be interested, surprised. What empire over self! What force of nature! You see clearly that these French who are called light are stoics on occasion.”
“My eyes smart, my feet are swollen, I have been swallowing dust; it is one o’clock in the morning, the air smells bad, I should like to go. Will they remain much longer?”