On sunny days he continued his walk as far as the end of the Champs-Élysées.

Women seated with careless ease in open carriages, and with their veils floating in the wind, filed past close to him, their horses advancing at a steady walking pace, and with a barely see-saw detectable motion that made the varnished leather of the harness crackle. The vehicles became more numerous, and, slowing after they had passed the circle where the roads met, they took up the entire lane. The horses’ manes came close to each other and the carriage lamps near to other lamps. The steel stirrups, the silver curb-chains and the brass rings, cast shining spots here and there, in the midst of the short breeches, the white gloves, and the furs, falling over the emblems of the carriage doors. He felt as if he were lost in some far-off world. His eyes wandered along the rows of female heads, and certain vague resemblances brought back Madame Arnoux to his mind. He pictured her, in the midst of the others, in one of those little broughams like that of Madame Dambreuse. The sun was setting, and the cold wind raised whirling clouds of dust. The coachmen let their chins sink into their neckcloths; the wheels began to revolve more quickly; the gravel crackled; and all the horse-drawn carriages descended the long sloping avenue at a quick trot, touching, sweeping past one another, getting out of one another’s way; then, at the Place de la Concorde, they went off in different directions. Behind the Tuileries, there was a patch of slate-coloured sky. The trees of the garden formed two enormous masses violet-hued at their highest branches. The gas-lamps were lighted; and the Seine, green all over, was torn into strips of silver moire, near the pillars of the bridges.

He got his dinner for forty-three sous in a restaurant in the Rue de la Harpe.

He glanced disdainfully at the old mahogany counter, the soiled napkins, the dingy silver-plate, and the hats hanging up on the wall. Those around him were students like himself. They talked about their professors, and about their mistresses. He couldn’t care less about professors! Had he a mistress?! To avoid their high spirits, he came as late as possible. The tables were all strewn with remnants of food. The two waiters, worn out with serving customers, lay asleep, each in a corner of his own; and a smell of cooking, of an oil lamp, and of tobacco, filled the deserted dining-room.

Then he slowly set out on the streets again. The gas lamps vibrated, casting on the mud long yellowish shafts of flickering light. Shadowy forms under umbrellas glided along the sidewalks. The pavement was slippery: the fog grew thicker, and it seemed to him that the moist gloom, wrapping around him, descended into the depths of his heart.

He was overwhelmed with remorse. He returned to his lectures. But as he was entirely ignorant of the subjects being taught, the simplest things puzzled him.

He set about writing a novel entitled Sylvio, the Fisherman’s Son. The setting for the story was Venice. He was the hero, and Madame Arnoux was the heroine. She was called Antonia; and, in order to have her, he assassinated a number of noblemen, and burned a portion of the city; after which he sang a serenade under her balcony, where the red damask curtains of the Boulevard Montmartre fluttered in the breeze.

The reminiscences, far too numerous, on which he dwelt disheartened him; he went no further with the work, and his lack of motivation intensified.

After this, he begged Deslauriers to come and share his apartment. They might make arrangements to live together with the aid of his allowance of two thousand francs; anything would be better than this intolerable existence. Deslauriers could not yet leave Troyes. He urged his friend to find some means of distracting himself, and, to that end, suggested that he call on Sénécal.

Sénécal was a mathematical tutor, a hard-headed man with republican convictions, a future Saint-Just, according to the clerk. Frédéric ascended the five flights, up which he lived, three times in succession, without getting a visit from him in return. He did not go back to the place.

He now went in for amusing himself. He attended the masquerade balls at the Opera House.