He was no longer in a hurry now; he
strolled along in view of killing time, displaying his charms, and
staring impudently at every woman who passed. With his shoulders
drawn up on a level with his ears, and his chest thrown back, he
dragged his feet after him as if his limbs were half paralyzed; he
was indeed doing his best to create the impression that he was
used up, exhausted, broken down by excesses and dissipation. For
that is the fashion--the latest fancy--chic!
"Will you never have done?" growled Chupin.
"You shall pay for this, you little wretch!" He was so indignant
that the gamin element in his nature stirred again under his fine
broadcloth, and he had a wild longing to throw stones at M.
Wilkie. He would certainly have trodden on his heels, and have
picked a quarrel with him, had it not been for a fear of failing
in his mission, and thereby losing his promised reward.
He followed his man closely, for the crowd was very great. Light
was coming on, and the gas was lit on all sides. The weather was
very mild, and there was not an unoccupied table in front of the
cafes, for it was now the absinthe hour. How does it happen that
every evening, between five and seven o'clock, every one in Paris
who is known--who is somebody or something--can be found between
the Passage de l'Opera and the Passage Jouffroy? Hereabout you may
hear all the latest news and gossip of the fashionable world, the
last political canards--all the incidents of Parisian life which
will be recorded by the papers on the following morning.
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