."

"Jump in!"

The blank streets stretch out interminably, gray and silent; the shops
on either hand are shuttered; in the squares you will find only a dog
or a scavenger; theatre bills hang in rags around the kiosks, the wind
sweeps their tattered fragments along the asphalt in yesterday's dust,
with here and there a bunch of faded flowers. The Seine washes around
its motionless boats; two great-coated policemen patrol the bank and
wake the echoes with their tramp. The fountains have ceased to play, and
their basins are dry. The air is chilly, and sick with evil odors. The
whole drive is like a bad dream. Such was my drive from the Gare de Lyon
to my rooms. When I was once at home, installed in my own domains, this
unpleasant impression gradually wore off. There was friendliness in my
sticks of furniture. I examined those silent witnesses, my chair, my
table, and my books. What had happened while I was away? Apparently
nothing important. The furniture had a light coating of dust, which
showed that no one had touched it, not even Madame Menin. It was funny,
but I wished to see Madame Menin. A sound, and I heard my opposite
neighbor getting to work. He is a hydrographer, and engraves maps for a
neighboring publisher. I never could get up as early as he. The willow
seemed to have made great progress during the summer. I flung up the
window and said "Good-morning!" to the wallflowers, to the old wall of
the Carmelites, and the old black tower. Then the sparrows began. What
o'clock could it be? They came all together with a rush, chirping, the
hungry thieves, wheeling about, skirting the walls in their flight,
quick as lightning, borne on their pointed wings. They had seen the
sun--day had broken!

And almost immediately I heard a cart pass, and a hawker crying:

"Ground-SEL! Groundsel for your dickey-birds!"

To think that there are people who get up at that unearthly hour to buy
groundsel for their canaries! I looked to see whether any one had
called in my absence; their cards should be on my table. Two were
there: "Monsieur Lorinet, retired solicitor, town councillor, of
Bourbonnoux-les-Bourges, deputy-magistrate"; "Madame Lorinet, nee
Poupard."

I was surprised not to find a third card: "Berthe Lorinet, of no
occupation, anxious to change her name." Berthe will be difficult to
get rid of. I presume she didn't dare to leave a card on a young man, it
wouldn't have been proper. But I have no doubt she was here. I s