You can hear the kisses which fall
on the opulent shoulders of the women and the laughter of the girl who
is sitting on some tanned sailor's lap, her unruly locks slipping from
under her cap and her bare shoulders issuing from her chemise. The
street is thronged, the place is packed, the door is wide open, anybody
who wishes may go in. Men come and peep through the windows or talk in
an undertone to some half-clad creature, who bends eagerly over their
faces. Groups stand around and wait their turn. It is all quite informal
and unrestrained.
Being conscientious travellers, and desiring to see and study everything
at close range, we entered.
In a room papered in red, three or four girls were sitting at a round
table, and a man with a cap on his head and a pipe in his mouth was
reclining on the sofa; he bowed politely when we entered. The women wore
Parisian dresses and were modest in their demeanour. The mahogany
furniture was covered with red plush, the floor was polished and
engravings of battles decorated the walls. O Virtue! you are beautiful,
for very stupid is vice. The woman who was sitting by my side had hands
which were sufficient in themselves to make a man forget her sex, and
not knowing how to spend our time we treated the whole company to
drinks.
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