In effect, the youth of Paris resemble the youth of no other town.
They may be divided into two classes: the young man who has something,
and the young man who has nothing; or the young man who thinks and he
who spends. But, be it well understood this applies only to those
natives of the soil who maintain in Paris the delicious course of the
elegant life. There exist, as well, plenty of other young men, but
they are children who are late in conceiving Parisian life, and who
remain its dupes. They do not speculate, they study; they _fag_, as
the others say. Finally there are to be found, besides, certain young
people, rich or poor, who embrace careers and follow them with a
single heart; they are somewhat like the Emile of Rousseau, of the
flesh of citizens, and they never appear in society. The diplomatic
impolitely dub them fools. Be they that or no, they augment the number
of those mediocrities beneath the yoke of which France is bowed down.
They are always there, always ready to bungle public or private
concerns with the dull trowel of their mediocrity, bragging of their
impotence, which they count for conduct and integrity. This sort of
social _prizemen_ infests the administration, the army, the
magistracy, the chambers, the courts. They diminish and level down the
country and constitute, in some manner, in the body politic, a lymph
which infects it and renders it flabby. These honest folk call men of
talent immoral or rogues. If such rogues require to be paid for their
services, at least their services are there; whereas the other sort do
harm and are respected by the mob; but, happily for France, elegant
youth stigmatizes them ceaselessly under the name of louts.

At the first glance, then, it is natural to consider as very distinct
the two sorts of young men who lead the life of elegance, the amiable
corporation to which Henri de Marsay belonged. But the observer, who
goes beyond the superficial aspect of things, is soon convinced that