perfectly beautiful city; and even after I had been there for some
time, and seen not only its avenues and palaces, but its most squalid
alleys and hovels, this impression was not weakened. Paris became for
me a charmed spot, and whenever I have returned there, I have fallen
under the spell, a spell which compels admiration for all of its
manners and customs and justification of even its follies and sins.

We walked a short distance up the Champs Élysées and sat for a while
in chairs along the sidewalk, watching the passing crowds on foot and
in carriages. It was with reluctance that I went back to the hotel for
dinner. After dinner we went to one of the summer theatres, and after
the performance my friend took me to a large café on one of the Grands
Boulevards. Here it was that I had my first glimpse of the French life
of popular literature, so different from real French life. There were
several hundred people, men and women, in the place drinking, smoking,
talking, and listening to the music. My millionaire friend and I took
seats at a table, where we sat smoking and watching the crowd. It
was not long before we were joined by two or three good-looking,
well-dressed young women. My friend talked to them in French and
bought drinks for the whole party. I tried to recall my high-school
French, but the effort availed me little. I could stammer out a few
phrases, but, very naturally, could not understand a word that was
said to me. We stayed at the café a couple of hours, then went back to
the hotel. The next day we spent several hours in the shops and at
the tailor's. I had no clothes except what I had been able to gather
together at my benefactor's apartments the night before we sailed. He
bought me the same kind of clothes which he himself wore, and that
was the best; and he treated me in every way as he dressed me, as an
equal, not as a servant. In fact, I don't think anyone could have
guessed that such a relation existed. My duties were light and few,