Forest City press. (Forest City, Potter County, D.T. [S.D.]) 1883-19??, 1912-02-01
CHAPTER x1.

CHAPTER III.
THE HOUSE IN THE RUE WILLIE
DOT.
Paris, with it's ever-changing crowds,
Its narrow, clamorous streets, it's tow
ering. tottering, dingy buildings, its
contrasts Of wealth and poverty. light
and shade, had not yet ceased to as
tonish me. It was a wonderful place
wonderful. at least, to me, who had
known only Poitiers-and I, who had
sat IN the chimney corne at home with
mouth agape listening to the tales my
grandfather-God rest his soul-was
wont to tell OF it. had during the first
few days fastened from place to place
from Notre Dame to the Place de
Greve, from the Porte ST. Denis to the
Great Chatelet-constructing anew the
scenes which had made them all so
famous, and delighted to find that they
had remained unchanged with the
changing ear For half a century the
city a stood stagnant, the king
choosing to lavish his money on his
wars or his pleasures rather than in
identifying his capital, or sinking into
his grave. his Golfers empty. his sub
jects estranged, under the severe do
va VI x0Aok1l NC NldlllkCllOu. I0k
I found 1t beautiful, and in the romano
with which ! clothed it forgot the un-
even streets, the stenches of the ill-kept
cutters, the danger from the tottering
walls. 1t was to me a dream city, and.
AS In dreams,s1 used only one faculty
in regarding 1.-THE Imagination.
I awoke with its uproar in my ears
and gazed with interest from my win
dow at the hurrying torrent OF car
riages and vehicles OF every kind which
filled the street from side to side and
constantly threatened to engulf and
hither and thither by the ceaseless
crush. l watched with apprehension
the attempts OF a pretty woman to
cross the crowded roadway. and
breathed a sigh OF relief when l saw
her safely over. A tap at the doo
opened 1t to find jacques bowling on
the threshold.
Good morning. monsieur he said.
Is there anything you wish?"
Nothing but breakfast, my dear
jacques" l answered. heartily, for i
had taken a liking to his pleasant face
and admired the unquestioning way In
which he carried out his masters Or
ders. 1T will be served soon. I
trust"
ut is awaiting, monsieur" he said.
n he led the way to The lower floor.
T1ANc you uO0IO auyLElUB 1UILneT
from Richelieu?' I asked, When l had
seated myself at the table and he was
stationed behind my chair.
"Only a message from him this
morning, asking IL monsieur had arrived
home safely, and stating that he him-
self had reached Limour without mis-
adventure and would be at Blois to-
night, where he would consider his fu-
ture course"
Pray heaven that it AXE him on
to Bayonne," I said, f%ervently. He is
better away from Paris for a time"
think OF caution. III you send a mes
sage to him." l added. tell him that i
am quite safe and that HI need have no
concern on my account" Yet I knew
very well that it was not / but Mile. de
Valois who o bring him back to
Paris.
The day was bright and warn and l
left the house with a light heart. /
reflected that l could do nothing better
than call at the salon of Madame du
Maine and renew my offer of service,
but the day was not yet far advanced.
andtI fingered upon the quays, where
a thousand noises mingled in n indie
scribable uproar which fascinated me.
I Boats We're dlscharging their cargoes
at the landing places, a row of boys sat
upon the piers fishing, the crowd eddied
ceaselessly back and forth, INC above
I OH IN AlIl ~ SAlSS u IL Stree
vendors of vegetables, fruit. fish, milk,
and I know not what. for their incom-
prehensible jargon, which ! vainly en-
deavored to understand, gave me no
clue to the wares they were selling. At
every step there was a beggar. a Din
man or a street musician. The water
carriers. Of whom I was told there were
not less than 20. 900 in Paris. carried
bells, which they rang with an ardor
nothing seemed to diminish. Here was
q oma selling oysters, which she
carried in a huge hamper on her back:
another vas benz almost double under
a great bundle of brooms; a third was
selling flowers, which we're displayed
on a broad shallow basket strapped to
her hips. Men were crying the moat
impossible things-toy windmills. boot
laces. buckets, bellows, prints, and even
rat traps. Here was a tinker. carrying
with him his fire OF charcoal, his
anvil, and all his tools; there
a cobbler. who was sitting against
the wall. in a corner out OF
harms way, mending a shoe. One
fellow with a loud voice and q very
red face ~endeavored to sell me a ticket
in some lottery, and nothe offered
me a bottle of magic ink. which would
fade after q certain time and leave no
trace behind 1t. He told me it was OF
especial value and in great demand for
love letters, since, after the second day.
and SO compromise no one. laughed
at him, and told him / had no use for
his ink, since / had never in my life
written a love letter, whereat he
showed me, with a great air of mys-
terv a wizards ring. which I'm ~