The Real Latin Quarter - LightNovelsOnl.com
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I look back to bow my acknowledgment, but it is too late; we have turned the corner and the rue Vaugirard is but a memory!
But why go on telling you of what the little shops contain--how narrow and picturesque are the small streets--how gay the boulevards--what they do at the "Bullier"--or where they dine? It is Love that moves Paris--it is the motive power of this big, beautiful, polished city--the love of adventure, the love of intrigue, the love of being a bohemian if you will--but it is Love all the same!
"I work for love," hums the little couturiere.
"I work for love," cries the miller of Marcel Legay.
"I live for love," sings the poet.
"For the love of art I am a painter," sighs Edmond, in his atelier--"and for her!"
"For the love of it I mold and model and create," chants the sculptor--"and for her!"
It is the Woman who dominates Paris--"Les pet.i.tes femmes!" who have inspired its art through the skill of these artisans.
"Monsieur! monsieur! Please buy this fisherman doll!" cries a poor old woman outside of your train compartment, as you are leaving Havre for Paris.
"Monsieur!" screams a girl, running near the open window with a little fishergirl doll uplifted.
"What, you don't want it? You have bought one? Ah! I see," cries the pretty vendor; "but it is a boy doll--he will be sad if he goes to Paris without a companion!"
Take all the little fishergirls away from Paris--from the Quartier Latin--and you would find chaos and a morgue!
L'amour! that is it--L'amour!--L'amour!--L'amour!
[Ill.u.s.tration: (burning candle)]
