There are, indeed, some unfortunates for whom its brilliant splendour never does aught save reveal the scars of old wounds, which in its careless gayety it formerly inflicted; and while others flock abroad to admire its beauty, these hide away their misery. But when daylight's haughty glare has faded, and spring has modestly shrouded its loveliness in a veil of grey, these wretches inhaling its fragrance in their seclusion come forth from their concealment, into the soothing twilight, among the dewy blossoms, and once more give utterance to the yearning that has so long been mute, rejoicing with tears in their old anguish, crying: "Oh Spring, oh youth--even thy falsehood was lovely--" thus doing it homage by their grief, for spring has no enemies.
Somewhat apart from the aggressive brilliancy of the Avenue l'Imperatrice wind a couple of quiet streets like detached fragments of the Faubourg St. Germain. Everything here breathes that charming and genuine elegance which is almost an instinct, and rules mankind despotically. It is not a grimace artificially assumed for show.
One of the prettiest of the small hotels standing between its court-yard and garden, in the Avenue ----, formerly it was called the Avenue Labédoyère, tomorrow it may perhaps be the Avenue Paul de Cassagnac, and the day after the Avenue Montmorency--was occupied by Count Truyn with his young wife and his daughter.
This evening the family had assembled in a pleasant drawing-room on the rez-de-chaussée, and one after another each expressed delight in the repose and relief of such an hour after the social exertions of the day. The husband and wife as they sat opposite each other near the fireplace--he with his Figaro, and she busy with the restoration of some antique embroidery--were evidently people who had attained the goal of existence and were content. It was plain that their thoughts did not range beyond the present.
Not so with Gabrielle. Twice during the last quarter of an hour she has changed her seat and three times she has consulted the clock upon the chimney-piece.
At last she goes to a mirror and arranges her breast-knot of violets.
"Our Ella is beginning to be pretty," said Truyn opening his eyes after a doze behind the Figaro.
"Have you just discovered that?" Zinka asked smiling.
"Do you think my gown is becoming, Zini?" Gabrielle asked as gravely as if the matter were the Eastern question.