ple food to ridicule the worthy Parisians. We leave the
Palais-Royal through the main gate, and I observe another crowd of people
before a shop, on the sign-board of which I read "At the Sign of the
Civet Cat."

"What is the matter here?"

"Now, indeed, you are going to laugh. All these honest persons are
waiting their turn to get their snuff-boxes filled."

"Is there no other dealer in snuff?"

"It is sold everywhere, but for the last three weeks nobody will use any
snuff but that sold at the 'Civet Cat.'"

"Is it better than anywhere else?"

"Perhaps it is not as good, but since it has been brought into fashion by
the Duchesse de Chartres, nobody will have any other."

"But how did she manage to render it so fashionable?"

"Simply by stopping her carriage two or three times before the shop to
have her snuff-box filled, and by saying aloud to the young girl who
handed back the box that her snuff was the very best in Paris. The
'badauds', who never fail to congregate near the carriage of princes, no
matter if they have seen them a hundred times, or if they know them to be
as ugly as monkeys, repeated the words of the duchess everywhere, and
that was enough to send here all the snuff-takers of the capital in a
hurry. This woman will make a fortune, for she sells at least one hundred
crowns' worth of snuff every day."

"Very likely the duchess has no idea of the good she has done."

"Quite the reverse, for it was a cunning artifice on her part. The
duchess, feeling interested in the newly-married young woman, and wishing
to serve her in a delicate manner, thought of that expedient which has
met with complete success. You cannot imagine how kind Parisians are. You
are now in the only country in the world where wit can make a fortune by
selling either a genuine or a false article: in the first case, it
receives the welcome of intelligent and talented people, and in the
second, fools are always ready to reward it, for silliness is truly a
characteristic of the people here, and, however wonderful it may appear,
silliness is the daughter of wit. Therefore it is not a paradox to say
that the French would be wiser if they were less witty.

"The gods worshipped here although no altars are raised for them--are
Novelty and Fashion. Let a man run, and everybody will run after him. The
crowd will not stop, unless the man is proved to be mad; but to prove it
is indeed a difficult task, because we have a crowd of men who, m