g themselves on a horse or a
carriage such as no neighbor can have until three days later. What is
all this but Parisian life summed up in a few phrases? Let us find a
higher outlook on life than theirs. Happiness consists either in strong
emotions which drain our vitality, or in methodical occupation which
makes existence like a bit of English machinery, working with the
regularity of clockwork. A higher happiness than either consists in a
curiosity, styled noble, a wish to learn Nature's secrets, or to attempt
by artificial means to imitate Nature to some extent. What is this in
two words but Science and Art, or passion or calm?--Ah! well, every
human passion wrought up to its highest pitch in the struggle for
existence comes to parade itself before me--as I live in calm. As for
your scientific curiosity, a kind of wrestling bout in which man is
never uppermost, I replace it by an insight into all the springs of
action in man and woman. To sum up, the world is mine without effort of
mine, and the world has not the slightest hold on me. Listen to this,'
he went on, 'I will tell you the history of my morning, and you will
divine my pleasures.'

"He got up, pushed the bolt of the door, drew a tapestry curtain across
it with a sharp grating sound of the rings on the rod, then he sat down
again.

"'This morning,' he said, 'I had only two amounts to collect; the rest
of the bills that were due I gave away instead of cash to my customers
yesterday. So much saved, you see, for when I discount a bill I always
deduct two francs for a hired brougham--expenses of collection. A pretty
thing it would be, would it not, if my clients were to set _me_ trudging
all over Paris for half-a-dozen francs of discount, when no man is my
master, and I only pay seven francs in the shape of taxes?

"'The first bill for a thousand francs was presented by a young fellow,
a smart buck with a spangled waistcoat, and an eyeglass, and a tilbury
and an English horse, and all the rest of it. The bill bore the
signature of one of the prettiest women in Paris, married to a Count, a
great landowner. Now, how came that Countess to put her name to a
bill of exchange, legally not worth the paper it was written upon, but
practically very good business; for these women, poor things, are afraid
of the scandal that a protested bill makes in a family, and would give
themselves away in payment sooner than fail? I wanted to find out what
that bill of exchange rea