I saw he was taking no steps toward making out my passport, and I became
more agitated and unnerved and said, "If it is impossible for you,
Monsieur, to give me the passport, I will inform Mr. Washburn of the fact,
and he will no doubt come to you himself for it."
This seemed to arouse him, for he opened a drawer and took out a blank to
be filled for a passport, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, as it
he was bored to death.
Now followed the most hateful and trying _quart d'heure_ I ever passed in
my life. I fancy Raoul Rigault had never been in the society of a lady
(perhaps he had never seen one), and his innate coarseness seemed to make
him gloat over the present situation, and as a true republican, whose
motto is _Égalité, Fraternité, Liberté_, he flattered himself he was on an
equality with me, therefore he could take any amount of liberty. He took
advantage of the unavoidable questions that belong to the making out of a
passport, and showed a diabolical pleasure in tormenting _la citoyenne_
who stood helplessly before him.
When it came to the description and the enumerating of my features, he was
more obnoxious than I can express. Peering across the table to see whether
my eyes were brown or black, or my hair black or brown, he never lost an
opportunity to make a fawning remark before writing it down. He described
my _teint_ as _pâle_; I felt pale, and think I must have looked very pale,
for he said: "Vous êtes bien pâle, Madame. Voudriez-vous quelque chose à
boire?" Possibly he may have meant to be kind; but I saw BORGIA written
all over him. I refused his offer with effusion.
When he asked me my age, he said, _insinuatingly_, "Vous êtes bien jeune,
Madame, pour circuler seule ainsi dans Paris."
I answered, "Je ne suis pas seule, Monsieur. Mon mari [I thought it best
to tell this lie] m'attend dans la voiture de Monsieur Washburn et il doit
être bien étonné de ma longue absence."