" I might, I say,
expatiate upon all these points if I pleased,- but I forbear, merely
personal details may be left to historical novelists,- they are
beneath the moral dignity of matter-of-fact.
I have said that "to enter the Cafe in the cul-de-sac Le Febvre
was to enter the sanctum of a man of genius"- but then it was only
the man of genius who could duly estimate the merits of the sanctum. A
sign, consisting of a vast folio, swung before the entrance. On one
side of the volume was painted a bottle; on the reverse a pate. On the
back were visible in large letters Oeuvres de Bon-Bon. Thus was
delicately shadowed forth the two-fold occupation of the proprietor.
Upon stepping over the threshold, the whole interior of the building
presented itself to view. A long, low-pitched room, of antique
construction, was indeed all the accommodation afforded by the Cafe.
In a corner of the apartment stood the bed of the metaphysician. An
army of curtains, together with a canopy a la Grecque, gave it an
air at once classic and comfortable. In the corner diagonary opposite,
appeared, in direct family communion, the properties of the kitchen
and the bibliotheque. A dish of polemics stood peacefully upon the
dresser. Here lay an ovenful of the latest ethics- there a kettle of
dudecimo melanges.
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