ackgammon. We
weave, we ravel and we unravel. Time pushes us on and we pay him back."

Other circles present the same spectacle. Every occupation being an
amusement, a caprice or an impulse of fashion brings one into favor.
At present, it is unraveling, every white hand at Paris, and in the
chateaux, being busy in undoing trimmings, epaulettes and old stuffs, to
pick out the gold and silver threads. They find in this employment
the semblance of economy, an appearance of occupation, in any event
something to keep them in countenance. On a circle of ladies being
formed, a big unraveling bag in green taffeta is placed on the table,
which belongs to the lady of the house; immediately all the ladies call
for their bags and "voila les laquais en l'air"[2254] It is all the
rage. They unravel every day and several hours in the day; some derive
from it a hundred louis d'or per annum. The gentlemen are expected to
provide the materials for the work; the Duc de Lauzun, accordingly,
gives to Madame de V--a harp of natural size covered with gold thread;
an enormous golden fleece, brought as a present from the Comte de
Lowenthal, and which cost 2 or 3,000 francs, brings, picked to pieces,
5 or 600 francs. But they do not look into matters so closely. Some
employment is essential for idle hands, some manual outlet for nervous
activity; a humorous petulance breaks out in the middle of the pretended
work. One day, when about going out, Madame de R--observes that the gold
fringe on her dress would be capital for unraveling, whereupon, with a
dash, she cuts one of the fringes off. Ten women suddenly surround a man
wearing fringes, pull off his coat and put his fringes and laces
into their bags, just as if a bold flock of tomtits, fluttering and
chattering in the air, should suddenly dart on a jay to pluck out its
feathers; thenceforth a man who enters a circle of women stands in
danger of being stripped alive. All this pretty world has the same
pastimes, the men as well as the women. Scarcely a man can be found
without some drawing room accomplishment, some trifling way of keeping
his mind and hands busy, and of filling up the vacant hour; almost all
make rhymes, or act in private theatricals; many of them are musicians
and painters of still-life subjects. M. de Choiseul, as we have just
seen, works at tapestry; others embroider or make sword-knots. M. de
Francueil is a good violinist and makes violins himself; and besides
this he is "wat