The flower-women at the corners of
the bridges had their baskets full of odorous violets. The count
bought a bouquet near the Pont Neuf and stuck it in his button-hole,
and without waiting for his change, passed on. He reached the large
square at the end of the Bourdon boulevard, which is always full of
jugglers and curiosity shows; here the noise, the music, drew him
from his torpor, and brought his thoughts back to his present
situation.
"I must leave Paris," thought he.
He crossed toward the Orleans station at a quicker pace. He entered
the waiting-room, and asked what time the train left for Etampes.
Why did he choose Etampes? A train had just gone, and there would
not be another one for two hours. He was much annoyed at this, and
as he could not wait there two hours, he wended his way, to kill
time, toward the Jardin des Plantes. He had not been there for ten
or twelve years--not since, when at school, his teachers had brought
him there to look at the animals. Nothing had changed. There were
the groves and parterres, the lawns and lanes, the beasts and birds,
as before. The principal avenue was nearly deserted.
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