There was no carpet, but what is called here a parquet
floor, or mosaic of oak blocks, waxed and highly polished. The sofas
and chairs were covered with a light chintz, and the whole air of the
apartment shady and cool as a grotto. A jardiniere filled with flowers
stood in the centre of the room, and around it a group of living
flowers--mother, sisters, and daughters--scarcely less beautiful. In
five minutes we were at home. French life is different from any other.
Elsewhere you do as the world pleases; here you do as you please
yourself. My spirits always rise when I get among the French.
Sabbath, June 5. Headache all the forenoon. In the afternoon we walked
to the Madeleine, and heard a sermon on charity; listened to the
chanting, and gazed at the fantastic ceremonial of the altar. I had
anticipated so much from Henry's description of the organs, that I was
disappointed. The music was fine; but our ideal had outstripped the
real. The strangest part of the performance was the censer swinging at
the altar. It was done in certain parts of the chant, with rhythmic
sweep, and glitter, and vapor wreath, that produced a striking effect.
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