which it is possible for his heart to hold.

After reading the proclamation of the mayor on the walls of his district
he had made his preparations.

This bit of prose said:

I wish to call your attention particularly to the part of
individuals in this celebration. Decorate your homes, illuminate
your windows. Get together, open up a subscription in order to give
to your houses and to your street a more brilliant and more artistic
appearance than the neighboring houses and streets.

Then Monsieur Patissot tried to imagine how he could give to his home an
artistic appearance.

One serious obstacle stood in the way. His only window looked out on a
courtyard, a narrow, dark shaft, where only the rats could have seen his
three Japanese lanterns.

He needed a public opening. He found it. On the first floor of his house
lived a rich man, a nobleman and a royalist, whose coachman, also a
reactionary, occupied a garret-room on the sixth floor, facing the
street. Monsieur Patissot supposed that by paying (every conscience can
be bought) he could obtain the use of the room for the day. He proposed
five francs to this citizen of the whip for the use of his room from noon
till midnight. The offer was immediately accepted.

Then he began to busy himself with the decorations. Three flags, four
lanterns, was that enough to give to this box an artistic