In five or six minutes I was master of myself: in ten I was stalking round the rink again, observing the people with interest. I thought I would speak to one of ces dames, and see what she had to say for herself. Variety is pleasing. But ces dames had such uninteresting faces, and such puffed out breasts and contracted waists, that I found I had no real inclination to speak to any of them. I wandered about for half an hour or so without seeing any face that attracted me; and then went out and (not analysing my motives) took a cab to the Folies-Bergères.
At first sight, I liked the place better than the Rue Blanche: the fountains pleased me, and the verdured seats. Then I was attracted by a vendeuse of somethings or other, who had a finely developed bust and pair of whiskers, quite bushy. I stood and began imagining her point of view of life and things generally, till, catching my eye, she smilingly proffered one of her somethings or other, addressing me. This made me laugh and, laughingly declining, pass on. I wandered about once more. The faces of the women seemed to me a little more interesting than those at the Rue Blanche, but not interesting enough to be spoken to.
Once, coming down a staircase, I found myself faced by myself in a huge mirror. I paused in my descent for a moment, in which I saw my solemn face set above my shoulders, squared by my hands being clasped together behind my back. The idea of this figure and face stalking about among these people made me grin to myself.
At last I grew wearied of it, and went away for a long walk about the streets.
When I came home I found Rosy sitting in the study, in the easy-chair, looking as if she had kept herself awake by means of some sort of emotion: I soon perceived, jealousy. In a little she began questioning. Where had I been? why was I so late? I answered her simply. First, I had been to the Skating Theatre, in the Rue Blanche, then to the Folies-Bergères: and then for a walk.
Those were bad places: bad women were there! I
