Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 221: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

208 PICKWICK ABROAD. voice that was frequently interrupted by loud sobs which she in yain endeavoured to suffocate, Emilie D’Arly hastened out of the room, — leaving rae in a state of mind not easily conceived. Some minutes elapsed before I thought of retiring from the apartment; then, col- leciing my scattered ideas and remembering the business I had in view, [ hastily returned to my lodgings. And then there arose in my — mind a confusion of ideas, that gradually formed themselves into a distinct comparison between the afflicted wife I had just left, and the remorseless husband I was endeavouring to save from ruin :—the one so pure and spotiess—the other so tainted and criminal; the one affectionate and forgiving—the other neglectful and unkind; the one belonging to a celestial sphere—the other attached to the grossest pleasures of life; the one whom you could fall down and worship— the other whose friendship you would scorn; the one chaste and vir- tuous—the other impure and vicious; the one, in fine, all that is beautiful and divine—and the other all that is dissipated and licentious, But to proceed. At about nine o'clock I repaired to the Palais- Royal.“ It was in the month of June—the gay—the laughing—the wok => % — Hi i AN y hte ' I ee SS et BY RAT) ABH EL =i} aa \ Ts ont —_ led Weta 'y \ | SP, F — CCT — _— S eaiepeencateamnaannnel ———— TORUCSGUMMLGILLSTLLLN U2 NOU POUCA EN LIGA ATT HT | | = on. ‘ ¥ f ’ A LEEER IAT RY AOTC SUD LAL a ss ee = == = . agate ty Jit | : Au f wy be i pis q i it fi p { 4 ii ' Pe ite j y “ y it Th if aii t . tt mii ila it | it adil i ith " (LEUEL } l iN) ih bey iY =| } i w — and rT Tr, we LEU ] ‘ i " biG | ‘t. - ih | Ni ml | H i] { 1) \ wry i} ! ‘ | } is He ns } ae | wild ee q4j} Tes >| | | i j 14 Net ik { Jj } Hii} i / 4h j \ iT Ma j ‘ \ rit ; HH i ; ’ smiling month of June—when the gay resorts of the fashionable world of Paris are the most frequented—wben the cafés are crowded with elegantly dressed peopie—when ices, lemonade, and orange-flower water are discussed with peculiar got¢t—when the Champs Elysées re-echo to the music of Franconi, or of the various surrounding guingettes—when the fume of the cigar mingles with the fragrance of sweet flowers—when every heart is light, and when nature itself is radiant with joy. At that season of the year how delicious a resort 1s the Palais Royal! That magnificent monument, raised by one of the greatest princes that ever swayed the sceptre of France, is unique and unequalled by aught in the cities of other nations, and may alone enable Paris to assert her superiority as a metropolis over every other in the world. The lofty colonnades—the splendid shops—the inviting display of luxuries in the windows of the cafés—afford a spectacle at once imposing and luxurious. : I was about to ascend the narrow staircase which I had mounted in — the morning, and which, as the courteous reader will please to el tect, led to a suite of apartments in which the gambler might gratify — + cr Eomicbooks.con 4 cla ; ® Aut