The Parisians — Volume 01Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Parisians — Volume 01
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century; Paris (France) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
and even when it appears hopelessly lost in the slough of a Glek-Nas,
re-emerges fresh and lively as if from an invigorating plunge into the
Fountain of Youth. O Paris, 'foyer des idees, et oeil du monde!'--
animated contrast to the serene tranquillity of the Vril-ya, which,
nevertheless, thy noisiest philosophers ever pretend to make the goal
of their desires: of all communities on which shines the sun and descend
the rains of heaven, fertilizing alike wisdom and folly, virtue and vice;
in every city men have yet built on this earth,--mayest thou, O Paris, be
the last to brave the wands of the Coming Race and be reduced into
cinders for the sake of the common good!
TISH.
PARIS, August 28, 1872.
THE PARISIANS.
By Edward Bulwer-Lytton
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
It was a bright day in the early spring of 1869. All Paris seemed to
have turned out to enjoy itself. The Tuileries, the Champs Elysees, the
Bois de Boulogne, swarmed with idlers. A stranger might have wondered
where Toil was at work, and in what nook Poverty lurked concealed.
A millionaire from the London Exchange, as he looked round on the
magasins, the equipages, the dresses of the women; as he inquired the
prices in the shops and the rent of apartments,--might have asked
himself, in envious wonder, How on earth do those gay Parisians live?
What is their fortune? Where does it come from?
As the day declined, many of the scattered loungers crowded into the
Boulevards; the cafes and restaurants began to light up.
About this time a young man, who might be some five or six and twenty,
was walking along the Boulevard des Italiens, heeding little the throng
through which he glided his solitary way: there was that in his aspect
and bearing which caught attention. He looked a somebody; but though
unmistakably a Frenchman, not a Parisian. His dress was not in the
prevailing mode: to a practised eye it betrayed the taste and the cut
of a provincial tailor. His gait was not that of the Parisian,--less
lounging, more stately; and, unlike the Parisian, he seemed indifferent
to the gaze of others.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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