Mme. de Lorcy hastened to interrupt the conversation by saying, “Is this the first time you have been in Paris, monsieur?”
“Yes, madame,” replied Samuel, who withdrew more and more into his shell.
“And does Paris please you as much as a pine-grove?”
“Much more, madame.”
“Have you any acquaintances?”
“None; and the truth is, I have no desire to make any.”
“Why?”
“Shall I tell you my reason? I am not fond of breaking ice, and Poles complain that there is nothing in the world so icy as Parisian coldness.”
“That explains itself,” cried Camille. “Paris, that is Paris proper, is a small city of a hundred thousand souls, and this small city is invaded more and more, by strangers who come here to seek pleasure or fortune. It is but natural that Paris should protect itself.”
“Parisians pride themselves on their penetration,” replied Samuel. “It does not require much of it to distinguish an honest man from an adventurer.”