is bright, the fog disappears, becomes peopled, is animated,
forms appear, they move, they are agitated, they are no illusory shadows;
but, on the contrary, essentially material, which cross and recross at
every moment. What beatitudes! what joyous life! Never, even for the
Epicureans, were so many felicities assembled together. Those who like to
wallow in filth, can find it here to their heart's content; many seated
at tables, on which, without ever being wiped away, are renewed a hundred
times a day the most disgusting libations, close in a square space
reserved for what they call the dancers. At the further end of this
infected cave there is, supported by four worm-eaten pillars, a sort of
alcove, constructed from broken-up ship timber, which is graced by the
appearance of two or three rags of old tapestry. It is on this chicken
coop that the music is perched: two clarinets, a hurdy-gurdy, a cracked
trumpet, and a grumbling bassoon--five instruments whose harmonious
movements are regulated by the crutch of Monsieur Double-Croche, a lame
dwarf, who is called the leader of the orchestra. Here all is in
harmony--the faces, costumes, the food that is prepared; a general
appearance is scouted. There is no closet in which walking-sticks,
umbrellas, and cloaks are deposited; the women have their hair all in
confusion like a poodle dog, and the kerchief perched on the top of the
head, or in a knot tied in front with the corners in a rosette, or if you
prefer it, a cockade, which threatens the eye in the same manner as those
of the country mules. As for the men, it is a waistcoat with a cap and
falling collar, if they have a shirt, which is the regulated costume;
breeches are not insisted on; the supreme bon ton would be an
artilleryman's cap, the frock of an hussar, the pantaloon of a lancer,
the boots of a guardsman, in fact the cast-off attire of three or four
regiments, or the wardrobe of a field of battle. The ladies adore the
cavalry, and have a decided taste for the dress of the whole army; but
nothing so much pleases them as mustachios, and a broad red cap adorned
with leather of the same colour.

In this assembly, a beaver hat, unless napless and brimless, would be
very rare; no one ever remembers to have seen a coat there, and should
any one dare to present himself in a great coat, unless _a family man_,
he would be sure to depart skirtless, or only in his waistcoat. In vain
would he ask pardon for those flaps which