"Now, I do not like Paris," said Jacob.
"Is it permitted not to like Paris?" cried Von Kreig. "You are joking, monsieur."
"Not at all. The same places do not suit all characters or all dispositions. To dreamy and poetic temperaments I recommend Italy; Germany, to those who are positive and prosaic; England, to men of enterprise and activity; and Paris, to high livers, and to ladies who love the excitements and gayeties of society."
"And Poland?" asked Henri.
"To those who thirst for martyrdom," replied Jacob sadly.
"But now-a-days every one laughs at these Polish theories of suffering and of sacrifice!"
"Oh, dear and charming Paris!" cried the baroness.
"One vegetates elsewhere, one lives only in Paris," added her husband, "and perhaps a little in London."
"Do not compare London with its fogs to my dear Paris," replied his wife.
In the midst of this desultory chatting Henri remained obstinately near, until the veturino which he had ordered was announced. He could not deny himself the bitter pleasure of seeing side by side her who had been his wife, and her who was to have been. He seemed unable to leave the place.