He dined at five o''clock, and after that his door was open.
That had been the fashion of his century, and he would not swerve from it.
"The day is vulgar," said he, "and deserves only a closed shutter.
Fashionable people only light up their minds when the zenith lights up its stars."
And he barricaded himself against every one, even had it been the king himself. This was the antiquated elegance of his day.▂本▂作▂品▂由▂思▂兔▂網▂提▂供▂線▂上▂閱▂讀▂
BOOK SECOND.--THE GREAT BOURGEOIS
CHAPTER VIII
TWO DO NOT MAKE A PAIR
We have just spoken of M. Gillenormand''s two daughters.
They had come into the world ten years apart.
In their youth they had borne very little resemblance to each other, either in character or countenance, and had also been as little like sisters to each other as possible.
The youngest had a charming soul, which turned towards all that belongs to the light, was occupied with flowers, with verses, with music, which fluttered away into glorious space, enthusiastic, ethereal, and was wedded from her very youth, in ideal, to a vague and heroic figure.
The elder had also her chimera; she espied in the azure some very wealthy purveyor, a contractor, a splendidly stupid husband, a million made man, or even a prefect; the receptions of the Prefecture, an u