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.
Eusebe Martin was neither astonished nor mistaken. He had dreamed,
in his country home, of a city built of gold and paved with rubies
and emeralds. He saw only a mass of stones and mud. He walked for
some time without raising his eyes, and then, looking about him,
without giving serious attention to any thing, he decided that the
best thing he could do was to go and consult his Voltairian friend,
the merchant, who would not fail to give him good advice.
Lansade received the young man with open arms, and detained him
to breakfast. As soon as they were seated at the table, the
porcelain-dealer began to question him earnestly.
“You see, my young friend, I did not wish, last evening, to be
intrusive, or to aggravate your annoyances, by inquiring into the
precise object that brought you to Paris. But I hope that now,
since you seek counsel of me, you will tell me truly what are your
intentions, and what is your aim.”
“I have already told you that I have come to visit the capital
of the civilized world, to see life, study civilization, and, if
possible, to distinguish the true from the false; and, finally, I
have come here in obedience to my father’s wishes.”
“Verily,” responded Lansade, “I do not comprehend a word of
what you tell me. To see life there is but one way, and that is,
to live. To study civilization you had no need to come so far:
it is everywhere. Do you believe Limoges is peopled by savages?
They traffic there as well as elsewhere, and perhaps better.
Civilization, you see, is commerce, and nothing else. Work is
truth.”
Eusebe responded,--
“Then I will work.”