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off the Boulevard du Montparnasse; it was convenient for
Amitrano’s School at which he was going to work. A waiter
took his box up five flights of stairs, and Philip was shown
into a tiny room, fusty from unopened windows, the great-
er part of which was taken up by a large wooden bed with
a canopy over it of red rep; there were heavy curtains on
the windows of the same dingy material; the chest of draw-
ers served also as a washing-stand; and there was a massive
wardrobe of the style which is connected with the good
King Louis Philippe. The wall-paper was discoloured with
age; it was dark gray, and there could be vaguely seen on it
garlands of brown leaves. To Philip the room seemed quaint
and charming.
Though it was late he felt too excited to sleep and, going
out, made his way into the boulevard and walked towards
the light. This led him to the station; and the square in front
of it, vivid with arc-lamps, noisy with the yellow trams
that seemed to cross it in all directions, made him laugh
aloud with joy. There were cafes all round, and by chance,
thirsty and eager to get a nearer sight of the crowd, Philip
installed himself at a little table outside the Cafe de Ver-
sailles. Every other table was taken, for it was a fine night;
and Philip looked curiously at the people, here little fam-
ily groups, there a knot of men with odd-shaped hats and
beards talking loudly and gesticulating; next to him were
two men who looked like painters with women who Phil-
ip hoped were not their lawful wives; behind him he heard
Americans loudly arguing on art. His soul was thrilled. He
sat till very late, tired out but too happy to move, and when