CHAPTER X.
On the following morning, at five o’clock, Eusebe awoke, and was somewhat surprised at not seeing the projecting beams on the ceiling, his gun hanging on the wall, and his three favorite ornaments on the mantel. A second, however, sufficed for him to recollect where he was. He leaped from his couch, and threw open the window.
“Behold Paris,” he exclaimed, “the city par excellence,—the crown of the world,—the city of a thousand palaces,—the——”
He paused. A profound silence reigned around him. The steps of a belated scavenger alone disturbed the quiet of the sleeping city. The eyes of the provincial were strained to see the thousand palaces: he saw little more than a throng of brick chimneys. The prospect was not enchanting. He closed the window, and proceeded to dress himself.
Five o’clock sounded. Eusebe made the sign of the cross, and waited to hear the three strokes of the angelus, to which he had been accustomed at that hour; but he listened in vain.
“This is the hour,” said he, “when my father rises to walk in the fields and commune with nature. Pierre curries the horses. Big Katy goes to the town to sell milk. Monsieur the Curé of Moustier prepares for mass. Here everybody is asleep. Is it progress that delays, or routine that advances?”
Not being able to resist the desire to see the city, the young man descended the stairs, found the street-door open, and went out.
This would be the moment to give a rapid description of the Boulevards of Paris at six o’clock in the morning, and to depict the surprises and misconceptions of the young provincial; but, unhappily, descriptions give too little information to those who read and too much trouble to those who write. Then, if they rest the reader, we must admit that they encourage the bad habit of going to sleep over a volume.