University of Virginia Library

19. XIX.

I HAD been in Paris and at once I recognized the place to which Ellis had directed our course. It was the garden of the Tuileries, with the old chestnuts, iron gratings, the moat, and the brutal Zouaves at their posts. Past the palace and the church of St. Roche, on whose steps the first Napoleon spilled French blood for the first time, we stayed our flight high above the Boulevard des Italiens where the third Napoleon did the same thing and with the same results. Crowds of people, fops, young and old, workmen, women gayly apparelled, thronged the promenades; restaurants, and cafés were brilliantly lighted, cabs and carriages of every sort and appearance rolled along the Boulevard; wherever the eye fell it was on glare and bustle. Yet, strange as it may seem, I felt no desire to leave my pure, dim, airy height to mingle with these human ant-swarms. Life was too crowded; it seemed to ascend to us, a heavy, heated, redly-glowing vapor, half fragrant, half nauseous. I was still hesitating what to do when suddenly, sharp as the clash of steel on steel, the voice of a street lorette reached my ear. Like a poisonous tongue it darted up and stung me. I pictured to myself the sharp, greedy, shallow French face with vicious eyes, rouged and powdered, hair crimped, and a bouquet of artificial flowers, nails like claws, and a deformity of crinoline. Then I thought in turn of one of my own countrymen in his foolish gambols after this coy damsel. I imagined him disconcerted to boorishness and confused by the rapid nasal speech, wearied by the effort to attain the elegant manners of the waiters at Vefour's; whispering, fluttering about her, seeking to ingratiate himself; and I was seized with disgust. "No," I thought, "small cause for Ellis to be jealous here."

Meanwhile, I became aware that we were sinking, and that Paris with all its tumult and confusion, was coming near and nearer.

"Stop!" I said, turning to Ellis. "Do you not feel a sense of feverish oppression here?"

"You yourself bade me bring you hither."

"I have changed my mind. I recall the wish. Take me away, Ellis, I entreat you. Look, there is at this moment Prince Kulmametow sauntering along the Boulevard,

and there is his friend Serge Waraxin who is beckoning with his delicately-gloved hand and calling, 'Ivan Stepanitsch! allons souper vite, j'ai engagé Rigolboche en person.' Yes, take me away from this Mabille, these maisons Dorées, from Gandin's and the Biches, from the Jockey-club and Figaro, these smooth shaven soldier faces and these smooth plastered barracks, from the sergents de ville with their goatees, from the domino-players in the cafés and the players at the Bourse; from the red ribbons in coats and paletôts, from M. de Foy the inventor 'de la spécialité de mariage,' and the consultations gratis of Dr. Charles Albert; from liberal journals and official brochures, from French comedy and French opera, French wit and French witnesses—away! away!"

"Look down," Ellis answered quietly. "You are no longer over Paris."

I turned my glance to earth. It was true. A dusky plain, streaked here and there with white highways, seemed to be flying from under us, and far behind us on the horizon, like the glare of a monstrous conflagration, lay the wide reflection of the lights of the world's capital.