At last I saw it again, that splendid city, and I exclaimed:
“Hail! city of uproar, and of mud and smoke!”
I prefer thy uproar to the gossip and scandal and petty malignity of the provinces; thy mud to the grass that grows in the untrodden streets of a small provincial town; and thy smoke to those solid pleasures—which I have failed to find elsewhere.
XXXIII
RAYMOND REAPPEARS
The new apartment, in which we installed ourselves at once, was large, convenient, and well arranged. I noticed that there was a room adjoining my study, where I could easily have a bed placed in case my wife should be indisposed and should prefer to sleep alone; for it is well to anticipate everything.
We had two servants, a maid and a cook; those were all that we needed. I had neither horses nor intrigues, consequently I had no occasion for the services of a Frontin or a Lafleur, who, having nothing to do, would be driven to emptying my wine cellar, seducing my maid-servants, and robbing me, to pass the time away.
During the first fortnight after our arrival in Paris, my wife did not give me a moment’s rest; I had to take her everywhere: to drive, to the theatre, to concerts, to the monuments and curiosities of every sort. She compelled me to go all over the city with her in the mornings, being determined to become acquainted with every quarter. She was never weary of gazing in admiration at the Palais-Royal, and she would stand by the half-hour in front of milliners’ and dry goods shops; she was in ecstasies, in the seventh heaven!—All the people, the noise, the vehicles, the beautiful dresses, the young men who, on the fashionable promenades and at the theatres, ogle women so respectfully and make such pretty grimaces to those who meet their approval—all these fascinated Madame Dorsan, who began to lift her eyes and even to flash some very innocent little glances therefrom. Oh! as for that, I was sure it would come.
I knew Paris by heart; I got a little tired of parading through the streets every day; still, a husband should be obliging. Thank heaven! the time came when there was nothing more to see unless we began over again; which my wife would not have been sorry to do; but I needed rest. Moreover, she discovered that a young wife could without impropriety go out alone in the morning; she knew our quarter very well, and I saw that she would make the most of the liberty I gave her.
At last I could breathe freely. I was tired to death of plays, driving, and questions; I was delighted to be alone. I had as yet had no time to visit my little apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. If my wife had known that I had a bachelor apartment, if her aunt had learned of it, I should have been adjudged guilty of carrying on secret intrigues. But I had no desire for anything of the sort; never again would I take any woman to my former lodgings. I wished that I had never taken one there.
There was one spot which I longed yet dreaded to pass. While escorting my wife about Paris, I had always managed to avoid taking her there. Why? I had no very clear idea; but I wanted to go there first alone; I should be more at liberty to stop; I should find my friend the messenger there, and perhaps I might—— But, no; I would not question him; what need had I to do it now?