and put up with slow trains, creeping diligences, and second-rate inns.

The network of roads and railways in France converge as surely to the
capital as the threads of a spider's web lead to its centre, and in
pursuing his route through the bye-ways of Normandy the traveller will
be much in the position of the fly that has stepped upon its
meshes--every road and railway leading to the capital where '_M.
d'Araignée_' the enticing, the alluring, the fascinating, the most
extravagant--is ever waiting for his prey.

From the moment he sets foot on the shores of Normandy, Paris will be
made ever present to him. Let him go, for example, to the railway
station at any port on his arrival in France, and he will find
everything--people, goods, and provisions, being hurried off to the
capital as if there were no other place to live in, or to provide for.
Let him (in pursuit of the journey we have suggested) tread cautiously
on the _fil de fer_ at Lisieux, for he will pass over one of the main
lines that connect the world of Fashion at Paris with another world of
Fashion by the sea.[3] Let him, when at St. Lo, apply for a place in
the diligence for Avranches, and he will be told by a polite official
that nothing can be done until the mail train arrives from Paris; and
let him not be surprised if, on his arrival at Avranches, his name be
chronicled in the local papers as the latest arrival from the capital.
Let him again, on his homeward journey, try and persuade the people of
Mortain and Vire that he does _not_ intend to visit Paris, and he will
be able to form some estimate of its importance in the eyes of the
French people.

We draw attention to this so pointedly at the outset, because it is
altogether inconsistent and wide of our purpose in making a quiet, and