ss is come
back!

O beloved and gentle Poverty! pardon me for having for a moment wished to
fly from thee, as I would from Want. Stay here forever with thy charming
sisters, Pity, Patience, Sobriety, and Solitude; be ye my queens and my
instructors; teach me the stern duties of life; remove far from my abode
the weakness of heart and giddiness of head which follow prosperity. Holy
Poverty! teach me to endure without complaining, to impart without
grudging, to seek the end of life higher than in pleasure, farther off
than in power. Thou givest the body strength, thou makest the mind more
firm; and, thanks to thee, this life, to which the rich attach themselves
as to a rock, becomes a bark of which death may cut the cable without
awakening all our fears. Continue to sustain me, O thou whom Christ hath
called Blessed!

CHAPTER IV

LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER

April 9th

The fine evenings are come back; the trees begin to put forth their
shoots; hyacinths, jonquils, violets, and lilacs perfume the baskets of
the flower-girls--all the world have begun their walks again on the quays
and boulevards. After dinner, I, too, descend from my attic to breathe
the evening air.

It is the hour when Paris is seen in all its beauty. During the day the
plaster fronts of the houses weary the eye by their monotonous whiteness;
heavily laden carts make the streets shake under their huge wheels; the
eager crowd, taken up by the one fear of losing a moment from business,
cross and jostle one another; the aspect of the city altogether has
something harsh, restless, and flurried about it. But, as soon as the
stars appear, everything is changed; the glare of the white houses is
quenched in the gathering shades; you hear no more any rolling but that
of the carriages on their way to some party of pleasure; you see only the
lounger or the light-hearted passing by; work has given place to leisure.
Now each one may breathe after the fierce race through the business of
the day, and whatever strength remains to him he gives to pleasure! See
the ballrooms lighted up, the theatres open, the eating-shops along the
walks set out with dainties, and the twinkling lanterns of the newspaper
criers. Decidedly Paris has laid aside the pen, the ruler, and the apron;
after the day spent in work, it must have the evening for enjoyment; like
the masters of Thebes, it has put off all serious matter till tomorrow.

I love to take part in this happy hour; no