196 WINTER SUNSHINE 



passenger wink, and one (myself) at least almost to 

 shade his eyes from the imaginary missiles. 



I record this fact because it "points a moral and 

 adorns a ' tail. ' ' The French always give this extra 

 touch. Everything has its silk snapper. Are not 

 the literary whips of Paris famous for their rhetori 

 cal tips and the sting there is in them? What 

 French writer ever goaded his adversary with the 

 belly of his lash, like the Germans and English, 

 when he could blister him with its silken end, and 

 the percussion of wit be heard at every stroke? 



In the shops, and windows, and public halls, 

 etc., this passion takes the form of mirrors, mir 

 rors, mirrors everywhere, on the walls, in the pan 

 els, in the cases, on the pillars, extending, multi 

 plying, opening up vistas this way and that, and 

 converting the smallest shop, with a solitary girl 

 and a solitary customer, into an immense enchanted 

 bazaar, across whose endless counters customers lean 

 and pretty girls display goods. The French are 

 always before the looking-glass, even when they eat 

 and drink. I never went into a restaurant without 

 seeing four or five fac-similes of myself approaching 

 from as many different directions, giving the order 

 to the waiter and sitting down at the table. Hence 

 I always had plenty of company at dinner, though 

 we were none of us very social, and I was the only 

 one who entered or passed out at the door. The 

 show-windows are the greatest cheat. What an 

 expanse, how crowded, and how brilliant! You 

 see, for instance, an immense array of jewelry, and 



