Ethel, first of all, had looked for an apartment for her own convenience; the hotel, thanks to Vieillecloche, was becoming intolerable.
“Foreigners, stay at home!” the “Tocsin” printed. “Remember the night of the 13th March, 1871, of the day of November 22, 1876. Respect the verdict of the 363. Tremble! The people is bristling its mane of the 16th May, and bares its claws of the 14th July!”
“We’d have done better to stay in Chicago,” said grandma.
At first the torrent of carriages and automobiles and bicycles flowing day and night before her window had amused Ethel. But soon she tired of it. There were, indeed, theaters and parks, and visits to dressmakers and society calls. But the theaters were impossible, the parks were only parks after all, the visits to dressmakers were anything but amusing—it’s so easy to buy! and as to society, Ethel wished to rest a little—for a change!
“To speak four languages, including my own, to play three instruments, including the harp, which only needs passable arms—all that doesn’t count. I must go to painting again. Oh, I wish I could have a picture on the line and a Salon medal! I wish I could do a work on La Salle’s explorations, at the Bibliothèque Nationale! What would I not give to write like Princess Troubetzkoi or paint like Cecilia Beaux! I am tired of all this idleness. I wish to work; I wish to be something by myself, and not merely the daughter of papa. I wish that—Grandma! let’s go to the Latin Quarter! I will be just a student girl living with her good grandmother while she studies art!”
“Let’s go, then, to the Latin Quarter, Ethel,” said grandma, who would have followed Ethel to the end of the world. “We shall be as well off there as here—or let’s go back to America if you wish; for my part I prefer new countries!”
“But the Latin Quarter shall be new for you! You shall see how we’ll amuse ourselves,” said Ethel, kissing her grandmother.
So they looked for a place in the Latin Quarter. They set off early, and, walking under the great trees of the Luxembourg, or leaning on the balustrades, looked at the palace and the flower-beds of the gardens.
There were bare-legged babies; nurses beribboned from neck to heel; soldiers in red trousers; a priest in a black gown; gardeners in wooden shoes; young girls without hats; students with hats flat-brimmed; everything gave them the feeling that they were abroad, far, far away. Such specimens of the pigmy races which vegetate in old countries amused grandma, and the garden pleased her greatly.
“This is like Douglas Park—except that it hasn’t any ornamental mound. Do you remember, Ethel, that globe of earth with continents and seas colored on it in different flowers, and our glorious flag made of white and red pinks and blue corn-flowers?”