"
"Ah," says Caroline, "the thing is managed better in Paris; the
_frotteur_ comes in before we are up in the morning, shod with
great brushes, and dances over the floors till they shine."
"I am sure," said I, "here is Fourrier's system in one particular. We
enjoy the floors, and the man enjoys the dancing."
Madame Belloc had fitted up my room with the most thoughtful care. A
large bouquet adorns the table; fancy writing materials are displayed;
and a waiter, with sirups and an extempore soda fount, one of Parisian
household refinements, stands just at my elbow. Above all, my walls
are hung with beautiful engravings from Claude and Zuccarelli.
This house pertains to the government, and is held by M. Belloc in
virtue of his situation as director of the Imperial School of Design,
to which institution about one half of it is devoted. A public
examination is at hand, in preparing for which M. Belloc is heart and
soul engaged. This school is a government provision for the gratuitous
instruction of the working classes in art. I went into the rooms where
the works of the scholars are arranged for the inspection of the
judges.
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