I was strolling along the boulevards one Saturday evening. I was alone,
and in a meditative mood; contrary to my usual custom, I was indulging
in some rather serious reflections on the world and its people, on the
past and the present, on the mind and the body, on the soul, on thought,
chance, fate, and destiny. I believe, indeed, that I was on the point of
turning my attention to the moon, which was just appearing, and in which
I already saw mountains, lakes, and forests,--for with a little
determination one may see in the moon whatever one pleases,--when, as I
was gazing at the sky, I suddenly collided with a person going in the
opposite direction, whom I had not previously noticed.
"Look where you're going, monsieur; you're very awkward!" at once
remarked a soft, sweet voice, which not even anger deprived of its
charm. I have always had a weakness for pleasant voices; so I instantly
descended from the regions to which I had mounted only for lack of
something better to do, and looked at the person who had addressed me.
It was a girl of sixteen to eighteen years, with a little cap tied under
her chin, a calico dress, and a modest apron of black mohair. She had
every appearance of a young workgirl who had just finished her day's
work and was on her way home. I made haste to look at her face: a
charming face, on my word! Bright, mischievous eyes, a tiny nose, fine
teeth, black hair, and a most attractive ensemble; an expressive face,
too, and a certain charming grace in her bearing. I was forced to
confess that I saw no such pretty things in the moon.
The girl had under her arm a pasteboard box, which I had unwittingly
jostled; she refastened the string with which it was tied, and seemed to
apprehend that the contents had suffered from my awkwardness. I lost no
time in apologizing.
"Really, mademoiselle, I am terribly distressed--it was very awkward of
me."
"It is certain, monsieur, that if you had looked in front of you this
wouldn't have happened."
"I trust that I have not hurt you?"
"Me? oh, no! But I'm afraid that my flowers are crumpled; however, I
will fix them all right at home."
"Ah!" said I to myself; "she's a flowermaker; as a general rule, the
young ladies who follow that trade are not Lucretias; let us see if I
cannot scrape acquaintance with her."
She replaced her box under her arm, and went her way. I walked by her
side, saying nothing at first. I have always been rather stupid about
beginning gallant interviews; luckily, when one has once made a start,
the thing goes of itself. However, from time to time I ventured a word
or two:
"Mademoiselle walks very fast. Won't you take my arm? I should be
delighted to escort you. May I not be permitted to see you again? Do you
go to the theatre often? I could send you tickets, if you chose. Pray
be careful; you will surely slip!" and other polite phrases of that
sort, the conventional thing in nocturnal meetings.
To all this I obtained no reply save:
"Yes, monsieur;" "no, monsieur;" "leave me, I beg you!" "you are wasting
your time;" "don't follow me."
Sometimes she made no reply at all, but tossed her head impatiently, and
crossed to the other side of the boulevard. But I crossed in her wake;
and after a few moments of silence, I risked another remark, giving to
my voice the most tender and sentimental inflection conceivable.
But I began to realize that my chance acquaintance was shyer than I had
at first supposed, and that I might very well have nothing to show for
my long walk, my little speeches, and my sidelong glances. However, her
resistance augmented my desires; I remembered how foolish I felt one
evening when, thinking that I had fallen in with an innocent maid, my
charmer, when we arrived at her door, invited me to go up to her room;
and I beg my readers to believe that I knew too much to accept. But
appearances are so deceptive in Paris! the shrewdest connoisseurs allow
themselves to be cozened; now, I ought to be a connoisseur, for I have
seen a good deal of the world; and yet, I frequently allow myself to be
taken in.
I made these reflections as I followed my pretty flower girl. She led me
a devilish long way; we walked the whole length of Boulevards
Montmartre, Poissonnière, Bonne-Nouvelle; we passed all the small
theatres. "She lives in the Marais," I thought; "that is plain." We went
through Rue Chariot, Rue de Bretagne, Vieille Rue du Temple. We went on
and on; luckily, the weather was fine, and I knew that she must stop
sooner or later. Yes, and she would probably shut the door in my face;
but what did I care? After all, I was simply killing time; I had not
known what to do with myself, and I had suddenly found an objective
point for my stroll. To be sure, such an objective point is within the
reach of everyone in Paris; and it is easy to provide one's self with
occupation by following the first saucy face one chances to meet.
Indeed, I know many men who do nothing else, and who neglect their
business to do it. Above all, I notice a large number of government
clerks, who, instead of attending to their duties, are constantly
hunting grisettes, on the pretext of going out to buy lunch; to be sure,
they go out without their hats, and run about the city as if they were
simply making neighborly calls; which is very comforting for the
departments, as they are always sure that their clerks are not lost.
But it is not my business to censure the conduct of other people;
indeed, that would be a most inopportune thing to do, inasmuch as I am
in the very act of setting a bad example; for, a moment ago, I was
meditating upon the instability of human affairs, and now I am giving
chase to a petticoat that covers the most fragile, the weakest, the most
deceitful, but also the most seductive, most alluring, most enchanting
creature that Nature has created! I was losing my head, my imagination
was hard at work, and yet I saw only a foot--a dainty one, 'tis
true--and the beginning of a leg clothed in a modest black woollen
stocking. Ah! if I might only have seen the garter! Faith! all things
considered, it is much better to follow a girl, at the risk of having a
door shut in your face, than to try to read the moon, and to weary one's
brain with metaphysics, astronomy, physiology, and metoposcopy; the
deeper one delves into the vague and the abstract, the less clearly one
discovers the goal and the proof; but, turn your attention to a saucy
face, and you know at once what you wish to accomplish; and in the
company of a pretty woman it is easy to discover the system of nature.
For several minutes I had said nothing to my young working girl; I was
piqued by her persistent silence; I had even slackened my pace, so that
she might think that I had ceased to follow her. But, although I was
some twenty yards distant, I did not lose sight of her. She stopped, and
so did I. She was speaking to someone; I walked toward them. The someone
was a young man. I bit my lips in vexation; but I tried to distinguish
what they were saying, and I overheard the following dialogue:
"Good-evening, Mademoiselle Caroline!"
"Good-evening, Monsieur Jules!"
"You are going home very late."
"We have lots of work, especially on Saturday; and then I had a box to
carry to Rue Richelieu; that is what makes me so late."
"What have you got in this box?"
"A pretty bunch of roses to wear in my cap to-morrow. I made it myself;
it's very stylish, as you'll see. A clumsy fellow ran into me on the
boulevard, and nearly made me drop it."
At that, I slunk into the passageway in front of which I had stopped.
"There are some people who never pay any attention to anything when
they're walking."
"I fancy this man was a student; he was looking at the sky."
"Did he ask your pardon?"
"Oh, yes!--But I must leave you; my aunt's waiting for me, and she'll
give me a scolding."
"I should be very sorry to be the cause of anything unpleasant happening
to you. We shall see each other to-morrow, shan't we?"
"Yes, yes; unless my aunt isn't willing that I should dance any more.
She's so cross! Have you got tickets for Tivoli?"
"Yes, mademoiselle, for four; I will call for you."
"Early, Monsieur Jules."
"Oh, never fear! But don't you forget we're to dance the first
contradance together."
"I never forget such things!"
"Adieu, Mademoiselle Caroline!"
"Adieu, Monsieur Jules!"
Monsieur Jules drew nearer to her, and the girl offered her cheek. I
heard a kiss. Parbleu! it was well worth while going all the way to Rue
des Rosiers to see that!
The young man walked away, singing; the girl went a few steps farther,
then entered a passageway, of which she closed the door behind her, and
I was left standing in the gutter.
That Jules was evidently her lover; yes, he had every appearance of a
lover, albeit an honorable one, for I was certain that he kissed nothing
but her cheek; moreover, his conversation did not suggest a seducer.
To-morrow, Sunday, they were going to Tivoli, with the aunt, no doubt,
as he had tickets for four. Well, it was evident that I should have
nothing to show for my walk. It was not the first time, but it was a
pity; for she was pretty, very pretty! I examined the house with care.
One can never tell--chance may serve one at some time. The street was
dark, the moon being behind a cloud, and I could not make out the
number. But that was of no importance, for I could recognize the
passageway, the sharp corner, and the awning.
"What the devil! Pray be careful what you're doing! You just missed
throwing that on me!"
An inmate of my charmer's house had opened his window and emptied a
vessel into the street, just as I was trying to distinguish the color of
the wall. Luckily, I escaped with a few splashes; but the incident
abated my curiosity, and I left Rue des Rosiers, wiping my coat tails
with my handkerchief.