Paris, beautiful Paris, always intoxicated Paul. He had not cared for it when he was younger. But in those days he was less cosmopolitan than now. Our insular John Bull sees nothing outside our own tight little island. But to Paul an awakening had come. Since those wonderful weeks he had known in Switzerland and Venice—now long years ago—he[151] had looked out upon the world with different eyes. The pulsating life of the streets quickened his own blood. [151] "To the Bois de Boulogne!" he directed the cocher, finally, and soon they swung into the gay stream that flowed down the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne toward the most wonderful pleasure ground in the world. [153] [153] CHAPTER XIV aul found the Bois as beautiful as ever, with its lakes and rippling streams hidden away in the forests. But he was conscious of a feeling of solitude as he rode along among the hundreds upon hundreds of jangling equipages. All the world was there it seemed to Paul. Grande dames there were, with gorgeous footmen on the box; and elegant little victorias containing wonderfully gowned demoiselles. Paul recognized one of the latter as a lady who had caused the disruption of a kingdom. There were less conspicuous carriages, too, whose occupants seemed to be having the best time of all—whole families,[154] there, with father and mother and laughing children. [154] Suppose the lady were somewhere in that wonderful throng of pleasure-seekers? In what fashion would she drive abroad? "God knows," he muttered hoarsely to himself, "who or what she may be. Princess or lady's maid, I must find her." So he rode on through the limitless Bois, that wonderful wilderness of green trees and country pleasures, of fêtes and promenades. At last they turned into the Route de Suresnes, which soon led them to the Lac Supérieur. There Paul dismissed his cocher, for he had a fancy to stroll along the borders of the lake. The banks were alive with boys and girls running about like young savages, to the distraction of their nurses. Paul[155]
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