This lady, without any premeditation, glanced up at the Baron merely
to see the lodger's cousin, and the libertine at once felt the swift
impression which all Parisians know on meeting a pretty woman,
realizing, as entomologists have it, their _desiderata_; so he waited
to put on one of his gloves with judicious deliberation before getting
into the carriage again, to give himself an excuse for allowing his
eye to follow the young woman, whose skirts were pleasingly set out by
something else than these odious and delusive crinoline bustles.
"That," said he to himself, "is a nice little person whose happiness I
should like to provide for, as she would certainly secure mine."
When the unknown fair had gone into the hall at the foot of the stairs
going up to the front rooms, she glanced at the gate out of the corner
of her eye without precisely looking round, and she could see the
Baron riveted to the spot in admiration, consumed by curiosity and
desire. This is to every Parisian woman a sort of flower which she
smells at with delight, if she meets it on her way. Nay, certain
women, though faithful to their duties, pretty, and virtuous, come
home much put out if they have failed to cull such a posy in the
course of their walk.
The lady ran upstairs, and in a moment a window on the second floor
was thrown open, and she appeared at it, but accompanied by a man
whose baldhead and somewhat scowling looks announced him as her
husband.
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