Rents in Paris are high. Few families, even of the
better sort of blousards, have a home attractive enough to compete
with the fascinations of the street or the cafe. Even in the Rue
Mouffetard there are cafes where wine is sold at two sous the glass,
and even cheaper, which would put to the blush some of the most
frequented "saloons" of Broadway in point of elegance and comfort for
the lounger. Stuccoed walls, frescoed ceilings, huge mirrors, velvet
sofas, marble-topped tables, gleaming chandeliers, gilt and glitter
that would be called "palatial" in New York, make the place
attractive. Yet a man could hardly be too ragged to be welcome therein
if he had a few sous in his pocket.
The scavenger and the ragpicker, being the lowest grade of blousards,
do not always rise to the dignity even of a blouse. They wear a coat
sometimes, but it is a marvel of a coat, and was in the last stages of
tottering old age before it fell to the blousard. They wear leather
boots too sometimes, instead of the wooden shoes belonging to their
station, but they are boots which are but a mockery and a delusion,
and yield the wearer no comfort. A respectable blousard--a carpenter
or a shoemaker or a member of any honest trade--would scorn to be seen
in any other dress but his neat blouse, unless on some great day, a
fete, his wedding or at church, when he wears his only coat, or his
father's or a friend's.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129