It was the outburst of the New Year: chaos of mud and snow, crossed
by a thousand coaches, sparkling with baubles and gewgaws, swarming
with desires and with despairs, official folly of a great city made to
weaken the fortitude of the firmest eremite.
In the midst of this hubbub and tumult, a donkey was trotting along,
tormented by a lout with a horsewhip.
As the donkey was about to turn a corner, a fine fellow, gloved,
polished, with a merciless cravat, and imprisoned in impeccable
garments, bowed ceremoniously before the beast; said to it, removing
his hat: "I greet thee, good and happy one"; and turned towards some
companions with a fatuous air, as though requesting them to add their
approbation to his content.
The donkey did not see the clever jester, and continued steadily where
its duty called.
As for me, I was overcome by an inordinate rage against the sublime
idiot, who seemed to me to concentrate in himself the wit of France.