lect one's thoughts. We pass cities, cottages, huts, and in each
dwelling people are talking, loving, quarrelling, bestirring
themselves. Every human being whom we see, smaller than a fly, has
his joys and sorrows. We are talking so much of Baden. We shall
pass through it to-morrow. I should like to go there.

At five o'clock in the morning I was waked. We were approaching
Paris. I dressed quickly, but there were fifty minutes to spare. We
went to the Grand Hotel.

Paris is comical in the morning. Nothing to be seen except butchers,
pastry cooks, boot-makers, restaurant keepers, opening and cleaning
their shops.

Toward noon, I was not only settled, but ready to go out. In Paris I
am at home, everything interests me; instead of being lazy, I am in
too great a hurry. I should like not only to walk, but to fly. I
wanted to make myself believe that there was society in Vienna, but
that is impossible. The hotel is full of a very good sort of English
people. We are going to Ferry's. I took the address in Vienna. We
shall buy two pairs of boots, one black, the other yellow.

We went on foot. I ordered some gloves. I dress myself. My allowance
is 2,500 francs a year. I received 1,000 francs. Then we took a cab
and went to Laferriere's. I ordered a tete-de-negre costume (three
hundred francs).

"Here comes the Duc de H----. Don't jump out of the carriage." My
aunt looked at me sternly. This evening I asked myself if I really
did love the Duc, or if it was imagination. I have thought of him so
much that I fancy things which do not exist--I might marry somebody
else. I imagine myself the wife of another. He speaks to me. Oh! no,
no! I should die of horror! All other men disgust me. In the street,
at the theatre, I can endure them, but to imagine that a man may
kiss my hand drives me wild!

I don't express myself well, I never know how to explain myself,
but I understand my own feelings.

To-night we are going to the theatre. This is Paris! I can't believe
that I am here. This is the city from which all the books are taken.
All the books are about Paris, its salons, its theatres, it is the
perfection of everything.

At last I have found what I have desired without knowing it. To live
is Paris--Paris means to live!

I was tormenting myself because I did not know what I wanted. Now I
see it before me. I know what I want. To move from Nice to Paris. To
have an apartment, furnish it, have horses as we do in Nice. To go
in