A glimmer of amusement lit up his eyes.

He looked on the floor, to the right, to the left, and turned about as though he had been strolling in the Bois de Vincennes, conversing with himself.
"Ah! that's nice, that's grand! There're cottages, a regular fair.

And some jolly fine music! What a Balthazar's feast! They're smashing the crockery in there.

Awfully swell! Now it's being lit up; red balls in the air, and it jumps, and it flies! Oh! oh! what a lot of lanterns in the trees! It's confoundedly pleasant! There's water flowing everywhere, fountains, cascades, water which sings, oh! with the voice of a chorister.

The cascades are grand!" And he drew himself up, as though the better to hear the delicious song of the water; he sucked in forcibly, fancying he was drinking the fresh spray blown from the fountains.