บทที่ บทที่ 167 · RULE: RECEIVE NO ONE EXCEPT IN THE EVENING

Such was M. Luc-Esprit Gillenormand, who had not lost his hair,—which

was gray rather than white,—and which was always dressed in “dog’s

ears.” To sum up, he was venerable in spite of all this.

He had something of the eighteenth century about him; frivolous and

great.

In 1814 and during the early years of the Restoration, M. Gillenormand,

who was still young,—he was only seventy-four,—lived in the Faubourg

Saint Germain, Rue Servandoni, near Saint-Sulpice. He had only retired

to the Marais when he quitted society, long after attaining the age of

eighty.

And, on abandoning society, he had immured himself in his habits. The

principal one, and that which was invariable, was to keep his door

absolutely closed during the day, and never to receive any one whatever

except in the evening. 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.