A gentleman, who presumably had no desire to sleep, was walking through the streets of Paris, which had become almost silent. For more than an hour, he had been walking on the boulevards, from Rue du Temple to Rue Poissonnière; occasionally, without any very clear idea as to where he was going, he strayed into the faubourgs; but he soon stopped, looked about him, muttered between his teeth: "What the devil am I doing here?" and returned to the boulevards.
This gentleman seemed to be in the neighborhood of thirty years of age; he was of medium height, and rather stout than thin. His face was neither ugly nor handsome; his round eyes protruded overmuch, and his nose, while not exactly flat, had neither the nobility of the Grecian nor the charm of the aquiline type. By way of compensation, he had what is called expression, and possessed the art of forcing his features to depict the sentiment which he desired to seem to feel: an art no less valuable in society than on the stage; for we are actors everywhere, and there are at court, in the city, in palaces, in salons, in boudoirs, and even in the servants' hall, people of unexcelled skill in the art of counterfeiting what they do not feel.
Our promenader's costume was neither elegant nor shabby. He was dressed like one who is in the habit of going into society, but not for the purpose of exhibiting the cut of his coat or the color of his trousers. His bearing corresponded with his dress; it was not at all pretentious. You will say, perhaps, that a man does not select so late an hour of the night to adopt a swagger or a mincing gait; I shall, in that case, have the honor to reply that I am drawing the portrait of the man as he was under ordinary circumstances, and that I had made his acquaintance prior to the moment of his introduction to you.
Now that you have the means of forming an idea of this individual's appearance, you will perhaps be curious to know what business detained him on the boulevards, why he was walking there so late instead of going home to bed. In order to find out, let us listen to him for a moment talking to himself as he walks, with both hands in his pockets, and as unconcernedly as if it were only eight o'clock in the evening.
"I had a presentiment of what would happen to me. I didn't want to go to that little Delphine's. If I had stayed away, I should still have my five hundred francs in my pocket. But little Delphine is such a dear creature! she wrote me such a sweet little note! Am I still green enough to fall into such a trap? I, who know the world so well, especially women! If I had had sense enough to take only three hundred francs with me, I should have something left; but, no! I must needs play the millionaire! I played like a fool. That little man who won my money turned the king very often. Hum! it looks a little shady. But one thing is certain, and that is that I haven't a sou, and that my landlord turned me out of his house yesterday because I didn't pay him. For four paltry louis! the Arab! I was going to pay him yesterday, with the five hundred francs my old aunt sent me, when little Delphine's invitation came and upset all my virtuous plans. Poor Dubourg! you are incorrigible, my friend; and yet, you are beginning to be old enough to reform."
At this point, Dubourg—for now we know his name—took his snuff-box from his pocket, and paused to take a pinch.
"O my only comfort! my trusty companion!" he continued, gazing at his snuff-box with an expression that was almost sentimental; "it's very lucky that you are made of nothing more valuable than horn; if you had been, I should have parted with you long ago.—But let us reflect a little. What in the devil am I going to do? I have no employment; they are so ridiculous in these public offices! I earned only fifteen hundred francs, so it seemed fair to me that I shouldn't work any more than the deputy-chief who earned three thousand; strictly speaking, indeed, I ought to have worked only half as much. Now, as my deputy-chief never appeared till noon and went away at four o'clock, and passed that time reading the newspapers, cutting quill pens, chatting with his back to the stove in winter, and going out to take the air in summer, I saw no reason why I shouldn't get to the office as late as he did and go away as early; pass an hour reading the Moniteur, three-quarters of an hour on the Constitutionnel, and an hour and a quarter on the Débats; stare at my pen a long while before trimming the nib; look at the work before me without touching it; turn over a file of papers for an hour, and then put it back in its place, without the slightest intention of writing anything on it; and take as much time to go out to buy a roll as it would have taken me to go from Paris to Saint-Cloud. This conduct, dictated by a sense of justice, was not to the liking of my superiors; as they wanted to force me to work hard, so that they need do nothing, they didn't like it because I presumed to imitate them; they reported me to the minister, and I was kicked out. To be sure, they offered to take me back a little later, as a substitute, but I felt that I was unworthy of such an honor.
"Then I went into a banking-house. Gad! what a difference! There, my superiors set the example of working hard. From the head clerk to the office-boy, everyone came at eight o'clock and stayed till five, then came back at seven and stayed till ten; and during all that time, not a minute's rest; writing, or making figures all the time. If by chance a fellow could venture to say a word, it was only while he was copying a letter or opening an account. No holidays! Always a mail coming in or going out. A man couldn't do too much; and if I happened to leave the office a few minutes before ten, an infernal Dutchman, who had passed forty-five years of his life over a ledger, would always take out his watch and say: 'You're in a great hurry to-night!'
"Faith, I couldn't stand it! That animal life was ruining my health; and one fine morning, when they lectured me because I went out to get a glass of beer at a café near by, I took my hat and said good-bye to banking-houses and business.
"I tried being a notary, but I was too absent-minded: I mistook a death certificate for a marriage contract, and a power of attorney for a will; so I was politely advised to abandon that profession.