Free Paris in the Twentieth Century by Jules Verne

enlarging public squares, opening avenues, and multiplying
boulevards threatened to leave little room for private dwellings. Which
justified this bromide of the period: in Paris there are no longer houses, only
streets!
    Some
neighborhoods offered no lodging whatever to inhabitants of the capital,
specifically the Ile de la Cit é , where
there was room only for the Bureau of Commerce, the Palace of Justice, the
Prefecture of Police, the cathedral, the morgue—in other words, the means of
being declared bankrupt, guilty, jailed, buried, and even rescued. Public
buildings had driven out houses.
    That
accounted for the high cost of present-day lodgings; the Imperial Real Estate
Corporation was gradually seizing all of Paris, in collusion with the
government-controlled Building Company, and yielded magnificent dividends. This
corporation, founded by two skillful financiers of the nineteenth century, the
brothers P é reire,
now also owned many of the chief cities of France, Lyons, Marseilles, Bordeaux,
Nantes, Strasbourg, Lille, which it had gradually rebuilt. Its shares, which
had split five times, were still quoted on the Bourse at 4, 450 francs.
    Poorer
people reluctant to live far from the center of town therefore had to live high
up; what they gained in proximity they lost in elevation—a matter of fatigue,
henceforth, and not of time.
    Quinsonnas
lived in a twelfth-floor walk-up, an old apartment house which would have been
greatly improved by elevator service. But once he was at home, the musician
found himself no worse for wear.
    When
they reached the Rue Grange-aux-Belles, he dashed up the huge spiral staircase.
"Don't think about it—just keep climbing, " he panted to Michel, who
was following just behind him. "We'll get there eventually—nothing is
eternal in this world, not even stairs. There!" he gasped, flinging open
his door after a breathtaking ascent.
    He
pushed the young man into his "apartments, " a single room some
fourteen meters square. "No vestibule!" he observed. "That's for
people who want to keep other people waiting, and since most visitors and
salespeople seem a good deal less eager to climb twelve flights than to walk
down them, I do without; I've also done without a living room, which would have
made the lack of a dining room too obvious. "
    "It
looks fine to me, " said Michel, once he had caught his breath.
    "At
least the air is as fresh as the ammonia of Paris mud permits. "
    "It
only seems small at first glance, " said Michel.
    "And
at second, but it'll do. "
    "Besides,
it's so well arranged, " Michel continued, laughing.
    "Well
now, you old darling, " Quinsonnas remarked to an elderly woman who came
in just then, "is dinner on the way? We'll be three starving guests
tonight. "
    "On
its way, Monsieur Quinsonnas, " replied the crone, "but you know I
couldn't set the table—there is no table!"
    "We'll
do without, " Michel exclaimed, rather enjoying the prospect of dining on
his lap.
    "What
do you mean, we'll do without!" interjected Quinsonnas. "Can you
suppose I'd invite friends to dinner without having a table to serve it
on?"
    "I
don't see...," began Michel, glancing dubiously around the room, which
indeed contained neither table, nor bed, nor armoire, nor commode, nor chair.
Not one piece of furniture, except for a good- sized piano.
    "You
don't see...," repeated Quinsonnas. "Well now! What about industry,
that kind mother, and mechanics, that fine young lady, are you forgetting
them? Here is the table as requested. " With these words he went over to
the piano, pressed a button, and there sprang forth—no other words were
adequate to the occasion—a table fitted with benches at which three guests
could sit with plenty of room.
    "Very
ingenious, " Michel observed.
    "Necessity
is our mother, " the pianist replied, "since the exiguity of the
apartments no longer permitted furniture! Have a look at this complex
instrument, an amalgamation of Érard and
Jeanselme [17] !
It fills every need,