respect。
The older man； a member of the Chamber of Peers； but excused from
attendance on account of his deafness； had a handsome head； chilled by
age； but with enough gray hair still to be marked in a circle by the
pressure of his hat。 He was short； square； and shrunken； but carried
his hale old age with a free…and…easy air； and as he was full of
excessive activity； which had now no purpose； he divided his time
between reading and taking exercise。 In a drawing…room he devoted his
attention to waiting on the wishes of the ladies。
〃You are very merry here；〃 said he； seeing that the Baron shed a
spirit of animation on the little family gathering。 〃And yet Hortense
is not married；〃 he added； noticing a trace of melancholy on his
sister…in…law's countenance。
〃That will come all in good time；〃 Lisbeth shouted in his ear in a
formidable voice。
〃So there you are； you wretched seedling that could never blossom；〃
said he； laughing。
The hero of Forzheim rather liked Cousin Betty； for there were certain
points of resemblance between them。 A man of the ranks； without any
education； his courage had been the sole mainspring of his military
promotion； and sound sense had taken the place of brilliancy。 Of the
highest honor and clean…handed； he was ending a noble life in full
contentment in the centre of his family； which claimed all his
affections； and without a suspicion of his brother's still
undiscovered misconduct。 No one enjoyed more than he the pleasing
sight of this family party； where there never was the smallest
disagreement； for the brothers and sisters were all equally attached；
Celestine having been at once accepted as one of the family。 But the
worthy little Count wondered now and then why Monsieur Crevel never
joined the party。 〃Papa is in the country；〃 Celestine shouted； and it
was explained to him that the ex…perfumer was away from home。
This perfect union of all her family made Madame Hulot say to herself；
〃This； after all； is the best kind of happiness； and who can deprive
us of it？〃
The General； on seeing his favorite Adeline the object of her
husband's attentions； laughed so much about it that the Baron； fearing
to seem ridiculous； transferred his gallantries to his daughter…in…
law； who at these family dinners was always the object of his flattery
and kind care； for he hoped to win Crevel back through her； and make
him forego his resentment。
Any one seeing this domestic scene would have found it hard to believe
that the father was at his wits' end； the mother in despair； the son
anxious beyond words as to his father's future fate； and the daughter
on the point of robbing her cousin of her lover。
At seven o'clock the Baron； seeing his brother； his son； the Baroness；
and Hortense all engaged at whist； went off to applaud his mistress at
the Opera； taking with him Lisbeth Fischer； who lived in the Rue du
Doyenne； and who always made an excuse of the solitude of that
deserted quarter to take herself off as soon as dinner was over。
Parisians will all admit that the old maid's prudence was but
rational。
The existence of the maze of houses under the wing of the old Louvre
is one of those protests against obvious good sense which Frenchmen
love； that Europe may reassure itself as to the quantum of brains they
are known to have； and not be too much alarmed。 Perhaps without
knowing it； this reveals some profound political idea。
It will surely not be a work of supererogation to describe this part
of Paris as it is even now； when we could hardly expect its survival；
and our grandsons； who will no doubt see the Louvre finished； may
refuse to believe that such a relic of barbarism should have survived
for six…and…thirty years in the heart of Paris and in the face of the
palace where three dynasties of kings have received； during those
thirty…six years； the elite of France and of Europe。
Between the little gate leading to the Bridge of the Carrousel and the
Rue du Musee； every one having come to Paris； were it but for a few
days； must have seen a dozen of houses with a decayed frontage where
the dejected owners have attempted no repairs； the remains of an old
block of buildings of which the destruction was begun at the time when
Napoleon determined to complete the Louvre。 This street； and the blind
alley known as the Impasse du Doyenne； are the only passages into this
gloomy and forsaken block； inhabited perhaps by ghosts； for there
never is anybody to be seen。 The pavement is much below the footway of
the Rue du Musee； on a level with that of the Rue Froidmanteau。 Thus；
half sunken by the raising of the soil； these houses are also wrapped
in the perpetual shadow cast by the lofty buildings of the Louvre；
darkened on that side by the northern blast。 Darkness； silence； an icy
chill； and the cavernous depth of the soil combine to make these
houses a kind of crypt； tombs of the living。 As we drive in a hackney
cab past this dead…alive spot； and chance to look down the little Rue
du Doyenne； a shudder freezes the soul； and we wonder who can lie
there； and what things may be done there at night； at an hour when the
alley is a cut…throat pit； and the vices of Paris run riot there under
the cloak of night。 This question； frightful in itself； becomes
appalling when we note that these dwelling…houses are shut in on the
side towards the Rue de Richelieu by marshy ground； by a sea of
tumbled paving…stones between them and the Tuileries； by little
garden…plots and suspicious…looking hovels on the side of the great
galleries； and by a desert of building…stone and old rubbish on the
side towards the old Louvre。 Henri III。 and his favorites in search of
their trunk…hose； and Marguerite's lovers in search of their heads；
must dance sarabands by moonlight in this wilderness overlooked by the
roof of a chapel still standing there as if to prove that the Catholic
religionso deeply rooted in Francesurvives all else。
For forty years now has the Louvre been crying out by every gap in
these damaged walls； by every yawning window； 〃Rid me of these warts
upon my face！〃 This cutthroat lane has no doubt been regarded as
useful； and has been thought necessary as symbolizing in the heart of
Paris the intimate connection between poverty and the splendor that is
characteristic of the queen of cities。 And indeed these chill ruins；
among which the Legitimist newspaper contracted the disease it is
dying ofthe abominable hovels of the Rue du Musee； and the hoarding
appropriated by the shop stalls that flourish therewill perhaps live
longer and more prosperously than three successive dynasties。
In 1823 the low rents in these already condemned houses had tempted
Lisbeth Fischer to settle there； notwithstanding the necessity imposed
upon her by the state of the neighborhood to get home before
nightfall。 This necessity； however； was in accordance with the country
habits she retained； of rising and going to bed with the sun； an
arrangement which saves country folk considerable sums in lights and
fuel。 She lived in one of the houses which； since the demolition of
the famous Hotel Cambaceres； command a view of the square。
Just as Baron Hulot set his wife's cousin down at the door of this
house； saying； 〃Good…night； Cousin；〃 an elegant…looking woman； young；
small； slender； pretty； beautifully dressed； and redolent of some
delicate perfume； passed between the wall and the carriage to go in。
This lady； without any premeditation； glanced up at the Baron merely
to see the lodger's cousin； and the libertine at once felt the swift
impression which all Parisians know on meeting a pretty woman；
realizing； as entomologists have it； their /desiderata/； so he waited
to put on one of his gloves with judicious deliberation before getting
into the carriage again； to give himself an excuse for allowing his
eye to follow the young woman； whose skirts were pleasingly set out by
something else than these odious and delusive crinoline bustles。
〃That；〃 said he to himself； 〃is a nice little person whose happiness I
should like to provide for； as she would certainly secure mine。〃
When the unknown fair had gone into the hall at the foot of the stairs
going up to the front rooms； she glanced at the gate out of the corner
of her eye without precisely looking round； and she could see the
Baron riveted to the spot in admiration； consumed by curiosity and
desire。 This is to every Parisian woman a sort of flower which she
smells at with delight； if she meets it on her way。 Nay； certain
women； though faithful to their duties； pretty； and virtuous； come
home much put out if they have failed to cull such a posy in the
course of their walk。
The lady ran upstairs； and in a moment a window on the second floor
was thrown open； and she appeared at it； but accompanied by a man
whose baldhead and somewhat scowling looks announced him as her
husband。
〃If they aren't sharp and ingenious； the cunning jades！〃 thought the
Baron。 〃She does that to show me where she lives。 But this is getting
rather warm； especially for this part of Paris。 We must mind what we
are at。〃
As he got into the /milord/； he looked up； and the lady and the
husband hastily vanis