Eusebe, on leaving the depot, walked straight ahead, valise in hand.
He saw the Seine, which he thought narrow. Then he came to a bridge, which he thought shabby. But all at once his face brightened up with an expression of delight: he was opposite the garden of the Museum.
“At last,” said he, “here is something worth looking at. What a beautiful, what an immense, garden! How admirably it is cultivated! It is unfortunate that a sentinel is placed at the gate to keep people from entering: it is ridiculous. But it is said there are a great many thieves in this immense city.”
Eusebe approached the soldier who guarded the entrance to the garden, and said,—
“Be so kind as to tell me the name of this magnificent enclosure.”
“Enclosure!” repeated the soldier: “don’t know.”
“I ask you the name of this enclosure.”
“Enclosure! Not known to the regiment.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Eusebe, mildly: “I simply want to know the name of this garden that you guard so well.”
“Ah! ah!” replied the son of Mars. “Should express yourself categorically, young man. That is called the Garden of Plants.” (Jardin des Plantes.)