They come
'possessed,' (the demon is in those huge boxes, which have caused the
death of so many poor _facteurs_, and which the railway pours out upon
us, daily); they bring their burden of extravagance with them, they take
it down to the beach, they plunge into the water with it, and come up
burdened as before.
_Dress_ is the one thing needful at Trouville--in the water, or on the
sands. Look at that old French gentleman, with the cross of the Legion
of Honour on his breast; he is neat and clean, his dress is, in all
respects, perfection; and it is difficult to say whether it is the make
of his boots, the fit of his gloves, or his hat, which is most on his
mind--they furnish him with food for much thought, and sometimes
trouble him not a little. Of the ladies' attire what shall we say? It is
all described in the last number of '_Le Follet_,' and we will not
attempt to compete with that authority; we will rather quote two lines
from the letter of a young English lady, who thus writes home to quiet
friends,--'We are all delighted with Trouville; we have to make _five
toilettes daily_, the gentlemen are so particular.'
Of the bathing at Trouville, a book might be written on the costumes
alone--on the suits of motley, the harlequins, the mephistopheles, the
spiders, the 'grasshoppers green,' and the other eccentric _costumes de
bain_--culminating in a lady's dress trimmed with death's heads, and a
gentleman's, of an indescribable colour, after the pattern of a trail of
seaweed.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163