Béranger, Gavarni, Balzac, De Musset; sketched by a hundred pencils and
described by a hundred pens; celebrated in all manner of metres and set
to all manner of melodies; now caricatured and now canonized; now
painted wholly _en noir_ and now all _couleur de rose_; yet, however
often described, however skilfully analyzed, remaining for ever
indescribable, and for ever defying analysis!

"De tous les produits Parisiens," says Monsieur Jules Janin (himself the
quintessence of everything most Parisian), "le produit le plus Parisien,
sans contredit, c'est la grisette." True; but our epigrammatist should
have gone a step farther. He should have added that the grisette _pur
sang_ is to be found nowhere except in Paris; and (still a step farther)
nowhere in Paris save between the Pont Neuf and the Barrière d'Enfer.
There she reigns; there (ah! let me use the delicious present tense--let
me believe that I still live in Arcadia!)--there she lights up the old
streets with her smile; makes the old walls ring with her laughter;
flits over the crossings like a fairy; wears the most coquettish of
little caps and the daintiest of little shoes; rises to her work with
the dawn; keeps a pet canary; trains a nasturtium round her window;
loves as heartily as she laughs, and almost as readily; owes not a sou,
saves not a centime; sews on Adolphe's buttons, like a good neighbor; is
never so happy as when Adolphe in return takes her to Tivoli or the
Jardin Turc; adores _galette, sucre d'orge_, and Frederick Lemaître; and
looks upon a masked ball and a debardeur dress as the summit of
human felicity.

_Vive la grisette_! Shall I not follow many an illustrious example and
sing my modest paean in her praise? Frown not, august Britannia! Look
not so severely askance upon my poor little heroine of the Quartier
Latin! Thinkest thou because thou art so eminently virtuous that she who