Читать книгу A Colored Man Round the World - David F. Dorr - Страница 4

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Next morning I felt pretty sure I was in Paris, or I “wasn’t anywhere else.” Every five minutes would assure me that I was there. Before the grey of the morn departed from Paris I had two lady visitors. One was a beautiful girl, like “Mary of Adelphi.” She was evidently mistaken in finding a tenant in this one of her rooms, unless that was her way. She moved up to the washstand, which was near my bed, or rather couch, and slyly looked in the drawer and drew back. I, wishing to let her know that if her business or adventure was connected with me, she need not fear waking me, rose my left arm and said, “good morning!” She, not understanding what I did say, muttered out something like “reste vous tranquilles,” which, I afterwards learned, meant, don’t be disturbed. She hurried out the half opened door pulling her little starched dress, that seemed to pull back, after her. Five minutes after this, she returned and placed on my stand close to my bed, a bottle of ice water and a glass. I asked her name, she said, Elverata, and winded away.

Five minutes after this another female opened my door about a foot and leaned gracefully in. She asked me some question two or three times, all that I could understand was Blanche, with some other points to it like E sirs. Consulting my guide of the French translated into the four following languages, French, Italian, German and English, I discovered she was talking about washing. I got this book in London and studied all the way to Paris, but found that I had made no improvement; all I knew of the book was, that the words translated were only some useful words that the solicitors would most likely know themselves when it would be necessary to use such expressions. She ran to me, for she was acquainted with the book better than I was, and helped to find what she wished to say. “Ie trouver, Ie trouver,” she said. I gave her the book, at the same time asking her in English what was trouver. She looked up at the wall, like a Madonna, and seemed to be lost in inward study, at last she looked me full in the face and said, “fyend.” “Ah!” said I, “find.” “Yis!” said she, “what you call cela?” “Washerwoman,” said I. “Ie suis washe-women.” This woman was certainly very bewitching whilst speaking this broken English. I gave her to understand that some other time would be more agreeable. She said she “stand” and went out; but as she did not stand, but went out, I presume she meant to say “I understand.”

At eight o’clock I descended to the salle a manger for breakfast. Persons were coming in to breakfast, two and three a minute, and others were going out as fast. This continued till eleven o’clock. Thirty and forty were frequently at the table at the same time. Mostly all were Europeans; and had everything not gone on so regularly, an American “greenhorn” would have taken them to be the confusion of tongues convening for a reconciliation. On the table was more wine than coffee. The coffee was usually taken in the smoking room, where all gentlemen assemble to discuss politics. Among this assemblage that I am so flippantly speaking of, was three noblemen of England, one Duke of Italy, three barons of the Rhine, and a broken down princess. From merely gossip authority, I learned that she was the wife of a great man in one of the Russio Turko principalities. She was generally dressed in black, and had two servants and a lacquey de place. She was handsome and that had ruined her. She was getting from her husband 100,000 per annum to stay away from him and his court, which seemed to meet her approbation. She roomed on the same floor I did, and I frequently met her smiling in these narrow and dark passage ways. She seldom dined at the “table de hote,” (dinner table) but either at the trois frere, (three brothers) or the maison d’or Doree, corner of the Boulevard and rue Lafitte. She most always had her Cabinet, good dinners and various wines, consequently was always full of agreeability. She would walk home herself, and, like the rest of ladies in Paris, she was always sure that her dress in front should not drag the ground, by a process she had in her nature, to show her intention of keeping her dress high enough to prevent all accidents of the kind. By this habit of hers, she got many admirers, for what a man would then see instead of her dress would be no disadvantage to her or her intention. Her reputation was such that had she been once gazed upon by the Virgin Mary, the fiery censure of her pure eyes would have been basilisks to her poor heart; the poor Princess would have dropped dead from the mere spark of censure which the Virgin could not, though fain would, hold back.

The day has gone by. I stood about, looking! looking! looking! Seeing what is novel enough to an American in Paris, in the court of the Hotel des Princes. Night came on and I went to my room to prepare to see a “Night in Paris.” I shall write of a Night in Paris, and then shall say no more of Paris until I have been to Germany and return, where I expect to spend three or four months. After this voyage I calculate to spend the winter here, and write something of Paris and its manners.

My first day ends by meeting the Princess on the steps, and having the pleasure of answering some inquiries of hers about sea-sickness, and pleasant ships of the Cunard Line.