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; &c。 In short; I began the process of ruining myself in the received style; like any other spoony。 I had not; it seems; the originality to chalk out a new road to shame and destruction; but trode the old track with stupid exactness not to deviate an inch from the beaten centre。 I had—as I deserved to have—the fate of all other spoonies。 Happening to call one evening when Céline did not expect me; I found her out; but it was a warm night; and I was tired with strolling through Paris; so I sat down in her boudoir; happy to breathe the air consecrated so lately by her presence。 No;—I exaggerate; I never thought there was any consecrating virtue about her: it was rather a sort of pastille perfume she had left; a scent of musk and amber; than an odour of sanctity。 I was just beginning to stifle with the fumes of conservatory flowers and sprinkled essences; when I bethought myself to open the window and step out on to the balcony。 It was moonlight and gaslight besides; and very still and serene。 The balcony was furnished with a chair or two; I sat down; and took out a cigar;—I will take one now; if you will excuse me。”
Here ensued a pause; filled up by the producing and lighting of a cigar; having placed it to his lips and breathed a trail of Havannah incense on the freezing and sunless air; he went on—
“I liked bonbons too in those days; Miss Eyre; and I was croquant— (overlook the barbarism)—croquant chocolate fits; and smoking alternately; watching meantime the equipages that rolled along the fashionable streets towards the neighbouring opera…house; when in an elegant close carriage drawn by a beautiful pair of English horses; and distinctly seen in the brilliant city…night; I recognised the ‘voiture’ I had given Céline。 She was returning: of course my h
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