life
of Paris around me, and to enjoy the infinite repose of these
old-fashioned hedges.

But I soon perceived that I was not the only one to frequent this spot as
soon as the gates were opened, and I occasionally met face to face, at a
turn in the path, a strange little old man.

He wore shoes with silver buckles, knee-breeches, a snuff-colored frock
coat, a lace jabot, and an outlandish gray hat with wide brim and
long-haired surface that might have come out of the ark.

He was thin, very thin, angular, grimacing and smiling. His bright eyes
were restless beneath his eyelids which blinked continuously. He always
carried in his hand a superb cane with a gold knob, which must have been
for him some glorious souvenir.

This good man astonished me at first, then caused me the intensest
interest. I watched him through the leafy walls, I followed him at a
distance, stopping at a turn in the hedge so as not to be seen.

And one morning when he thought he was quite alone, he began to make the
most remarkable motions. First he would give some little springs, then
make a bow; then, with his slim legs, he would give a lively spring in
the air, clapping his feet as he did so, and then turn round cleverly,
skipping and frisking about in a comical manner, smiling as if he had an
audience, twisting his poor little puppet-like body, bowing pathetic and
ridiculous little greetings into the empty air. He was dancing.

I stood petrified with amazement, asking myself which of us was crazy, he
or I.

He stopped suddenly, advanced as actors do on the stage, then bowed and
retreated with gracious smiles, and kissing his hand as actors do, his
trembling hand, to the two rows of trimmed bushes.

Then he continued his walk with a solemn demeanor.

After that I never lost sight of him, and each morning he began anew his
outlandish exercises.

I was wildly anxious to speak to him. I decided to risk it, and one day,
after greeting him, I said:

"It is a beautiful day, monsieur."

He bowed.

"Yes, sir, the weather is just as it used to be."

A week later we were friends and I knew his history. He had been a
dancing master at the opera, in the time of Louis XV. His beautiful cane
was a present from the Comte de Clermont. And when we spoke about dancing
he never stopping talking.

One day he said to me:

"I married La Castris, monsieur. I will introduce you to her if you wish
it, but she does not get here till later. This garden