The Mysteries of Paris, illustrated with etchings, Vol. 1Sue, Eugène
General
The Mysteries of Paris, illustrated with etchings, Vol. 1
Sue, Eugène
Paris (France) -- Fiction
"Ah, the third time I really thought it was all right. The commandant
arrived more stuck up with pride than ever; his eyes staring with
self-satisfied admiration at himself and the certainty of not being
disappointed this time. Let me tell the truth about him; he really is a
good-looking man, and dresses well, though he stinks of musk like a
civet cat. Well, there was my gentleman arrayed in all his finery, and
scarcely condescending to look at us poor folks; he seemed as though he
conferred a favour on the earth by deigning to walk on it, and went,
sticking his nose into the air, as if he meant to touch the clouds with
it. He took the key, and said to us, as he passed up-stairs, in a
jeering, self-complacent tone, as though to revenge himself for having
been laughed at twice before, 'You will direct the lady to my apartments
when she comes.' Well, Pipelet and I were so anxious to see the lady he
expected, though we did not much reckon upon her keeping her
appointment, even if she ever made one, that we went and hid ourselves
behind the little door that belongs to the alley; and, behold! in a
short time a blue hackney-coach, with its blinds drawn down, stopped at
the entrance to the house. 'There she is!' says I to Alfred. 'There is
his madame; let's keep back a bit for fear we frighten her away.' The
coachman got off his box and opened the door. Then we saw a female,
closely covered with a black veil, and carrying a muff; she had
apparently been crying, for she kept her handkerchief to her face; for
when the steps were let down, instead of alighting, she said some few
words to the driver, who, much surprised, shut the door up again."
"Then the lady did not get out?"
"No! she threw herself back in the coach and pressed her handkerchief
tightly to her eyes. I rushed out, and before the coachman had time to
get on his seat again, I called out, 'Hallo, there, coachy! are you
going back again?' 'Yes,' says he. 'Where?' says I. 'Where I came from,'
answers he. 'And where did you come from?' asks I again. 'From the Rue
St. Dominique, corner of the Rue Belle Chasse.'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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