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movement continues past the Tuileries to the Avenue
de l’Opéra. There is always vibration in a
town, but in order to notice it one must have
very sensitive nerves.
The other side of the river is, for us dwellers
in Montparnasse, a foreign world. It is nearly
a year since I visited the Lyons Bank, or the
Café de la Régence. On the Boulevard des
Italiens, I felt homesick, and I hurried back to
the river, where the sight of the Rue des Saints
Pères revived me. Near the Church St. Germain
des Près I met a funeral, and after that,
two colossal Madonnas, which were being carried
on a cart. One of them, with folded hands
and eyes directed heavenwards, made a deep
impression on me.
June 16th.—On the Boulevard St. Michel I
bought a paper-weight adorned with a glass
globe containing the Madonna of Lourdes in
her famous grotto; before her kneels a veiled
woman. When I place the figure in the sun, it
casts strange shadows. On the back of the
grotto the plaster has accidentally formed a
head of Christ, though evidently unintended by
the artist.
June 18th.—My Danish friend rushes in, in a
state of excitement and trembling all over,
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