France -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories
These last were openly struck between group and group and
from one end of the street to the other, just as in the wide and open
corridor of a disorderly house. On such evenings as the pair came home
without having had any success they used to wrangle together. The Rue
Notre Dame de la Lorette stretched dark and deserted in front of them.
Here and there the crawling shadow of a woman was discernible, for the
Quarter was going home and going home late, and poor creatures,
exasperated at a night of fruitless loitering, were unwilling to give
up the chase and would still stand, disputing in hoarse voices with any
strayed reveler they could catch at the corner of the Rue Breda or the
Rue Fontaine.
Nevertheless, some windfalls came in their way now and then in the
shape of louis picked up in the society of elegant gentlemen, who
slipped their decorations into their pockets as they went upstairs with
them. Satin had an especially keen scent for these. On rainy evenings,
when the dripping city exhaled an unpleasant odor suggestive of a great
untidy bed, she knew that the soft weather and the fetid reek of the
town’s holes and corners were sure to send the men mad. And so she
watched the best dressed among them, for she knew by their pale eyes
what their state was. On such nights it was as though a fit of fleshly
madness were passing over Paris. The girl was rather nervous certainly,
for the most modish gentlemen were always the most obscene. All the
varnish would crack off a man, and the brute beast would show itself,
exacting, monstrous in lust, a past master in corruption. But besides
being nervous, that trollop of a Satin was lacking in respect. She
would blurt out awful things in front of dignified gentlemen in
carriages and assure them that their coachmen were better bred than
they because they behaved respectfully toward the women and did not
half kill them with their diabolical tricks and suggestions. The way in
which smart people sprawled head over heels into all the cesspools of
vice still caused Nana some surprise, for she had a few prejudices
remaining, though Satin was rapidly destroying them.
“Well then,” she used to say when talking seriously about the matter,
“there’s no such thing as virtue left, is there?”
From one end of the social ladder to the other everybody was on the
loose! Good gracious! Some nice things ought to be going on in Paris
between nine o’clock in the evening and three in the morning! And with
that she began making very merry and declaring that if one could only
have looked into every room one would have seen some funny sights—the
little people going it head over ears and a good lot of swells, too,
playing the swine rather harder than the rest. Oh, she was finishing
her education!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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