People swarmed as usual in the streets, jostled one another off
the pavement, and ruined one another's umbrellas. All the cabs
were taken up; they splashed along and bespattered the foot
passengers to the best of their ability, while the asphalt
glistened in the dim light with a dense coating of mud.
The cafes were crowded to excess; regular customers went round and
scolded, and the waiters ran against each other in their hurry.
Ever and anon, amid the confusion, could be heard the sharp little
ting of the bell on the buffet; it was la dame du comptoir
summoning a waiter, while her calm eyes kept a watch upon the
whole cafe.
A lady sat at the buffet of a large restaurant on the Boulevard
Sebastopol. She was widely known for her cleverness and her
amiable manners.
She had glossy black hair, which, in spite of the fashion, she
wore parted in the middle of her forehead in natural curls. Her
eyes were almost black and her mouth full, with a little shadow of
a moustache.
Her figure was still very pretty, although, if the truth were
known, she had probably passed her thirtieth year; and she had a
soft little hand, with which she wrote elegant figures in her
cashbook, and now and then a little note. Madame Virginie could
converse with the young dandies who were always hanging about the
buffet, and parry their witticisms, while she kept account with
the waiters and had her eye upon every corner of the great room.
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