s been described (mainly by the
French) as the dumb stiff, unapproachable race, present to-day a
remarkable appearance of good-humour and garrulity and are distinguished
by their facility of intercourse. On the other hand, any one who has
seen half-a-dozen Frenchmen pass a whole day together in a
railway-carriage without breaking silence is forced to believe that the
traditional reputation of these gentlemen is simply the survival of some
primitive formula. It was true, doubtless, before the Revolution; but
there have been great changes since then. The question of which is the
better taste, to talk to strangers or to hold your tongue, is a matter
apart; I incline to believe that the French reserve is the result of a
more definite conception of social behaviour. I allude to it only
because it is at variance with the national fame and at the same time
compatible with a very easy view of life in certain other directions. On
some of these latter points the Boule d'Or at Bourges was full of
instruction; boasting as it did of a hall of reception in which, amid
old boots that had been brought to be cleaned, old linen that was being
sorted for the wash, and lamps of evil odour that were awaiting
replenishment, a strange, familiar, promiscuous household life went
forward. Small scullions in white caps and aprons slept upon greasy
benches; the Boots sat staring at you while you fumbled, helpless, in a
row of pigeon-holes, for your candlestick or your key; and, amid the
coming and going of the _commis-voyageurs_, a little sempstress bent
over the under-garments of the hostess--the latter being a heavy, stern,
silent woman, who looked at people very hard.

[Bourges: the Cathedral]

It was not to be looked at in that manner that one had come all the way
from Tours; so that within ten minutes after my arrival I sallied out
into the darkness to form somehow and somewhere a happier relation.
However late in the evening I may arrive at a place, I never go to bed
without my impression. The natural place at Bourges to look for it
seemed to be the cathedral; which, moreover, was the only thing that
could account for my presence _dans cette galere_. I turned out of a
small square in front of the hotel and walked up a narrow, sloping
street paved with big, rough stones and guiltless of a footway. It was a
splendid starlight night; the stillness of a sleeping _ville de
province_ was over everything; I had the whole place to myself. I turned