heads and breasts, in their hair, scattered over their dresses or
lying in garlands at their feet.  Light quiverings of the body,
voluptuous movements, made the laces and gauzes and silks swirl about
their graceful figures.  Sparkling glances here and there eclipsed the
lights and the blaze of the diamonds, and fanned the flame of hearts
already burning too brightly.  I detected also significant nods of the
head for lovers and repellent attitudes for husbands.  The exclamation
of the card-players at every unexpected /coup/, the jingle of gold,
mingled with music and the murmur of conversation; and to put the
finishing touch to the vertigo of that multitude, intoxicated by all
the seductions the world can offer, a perfume-laden atmosphere and
general exaltation acted upon their over-wrought imaginations.  Thus,
at my right was the depressing, silent image of death; at my left the
decorous bacchanalia of life; on the one side nature, cold and gloomy,
and in mourning garb; on the other side, man on pleasure bent.  And,
standing on the borderland of those two incongruous pictures, which
repeated thousands of times in diverse ways, make Paris the most
entertaining and most philosophical city in the world, I played a
mental /macedoine/[*], half jesting, half funereal.  With my left foot
I kept time to the music, and the other felt as if it were in a tomb.