“Eh! do you hear that? Here is a gentleman that don’t know where he is going.”
“Mind your own business.”
“Bah! you lubber! you haven’t a sou.”
The provincial was about to reply, when the cabman, to whom a traveller had just made a sign, hurried away.
“These people do not seem to be very familiar with the laws of hospitality,” thought Eusebe: “they call you to insult you. What does all this mean?”
CHAPTER IV.
Paris is the dream of all provincialists. Rich and poor want to come here, at least once,—the first to enjoy life, the second to try to make their fortunes. No one can imagine the disappointment of these visitors, since each one has had his own peculiar ideas of the metropolis. For some, Paris is an immense succession of palaces; for others, the houses are built of gold and precious stones.
Paris never comes up to the ideas strangers have formed of it. In order to love and admire this great city, one must become acquainted with it. The inhabitants of the South, particularly, are greatly disappointed on arriving at the capital. Their imagination, more lively than that of the people of the North, embellishes the metropolis in a thousand different ways. As if to punish them for their imaginary castles, accident has always made them enter the city at its homeliest point. Before the railroad was built, the people of the South arrived at the Barrière d’Enfer. To them Paris presented a sorry aspect; to those who arrive now it presents no aspect at all.