The next morning all was in readiness for their departure. Georgiana felt a little more in spirits now that her letters had been despatched, and the travellers were come close-by their destination. The Darcys stepped into the chaise and embarked upon the road to Paris. Georgiana’s hand could often be seen clasping her locket, and in one or two exchanged glances, husband and wife believed that they understood Georgiana’s disquietude and ennui, rejoicing that the fortunate purchase of the miniature would provide a significant—if not entirely rational—source of comfort to her.

The six-mile road from St. Denis to Paris appeared almost one continued street. The carriages passed through the environs of the city, reaching the Porte Saint Martin just after ten o’clock. Georgiana related to Darcy and Elizabeth that Paris had been inhabited by upwards of eight hundred thousand souls previous to the dethronement of Louis XVI, and was since considerably diminished, its population now not exceeding three-quarters of that number. Paris was spared any appearance of abandonment, however, by the multitudes of visitors who now flocked to the city throughout the year, adding numbers in abundance. In early spring, the city was now fit to burst with a mixture of Parisians and pretenders to that distinguished title. The invention of a system to take away the waste from the city was instituted by Buonaparte, with the intention of a somewhat more salubrious air, and Mr. Darcy pointed out further improvements since his visit as a young man: the shops now being far more numerous, manufactories greatly improved, and new, elegant restaurants—seemingly on every corner—adding yet more credit to that city’s reputation as a gourmand’s paradise. There were theatres, coffeehouses, rooms for dancing, pleasure-gardens, and public baths.

These amenities did not improve the Darcys’ first impressions of Paris. The Parisian customs-officers were extremely impertinent—to a point well beyond insolence—and importuned them at length, assiduously looking through their possessions and even the furniture of the carriages, to an even more preposterous extent than had the agents at Calais. This was all much to the vexation of Mr. Darcy, who could not readily imagine himself or his family suspicious candidates as conveyors of forbidden goods across the continent. The new French passports procured at Calais upon their arrival in France were circumspectly examined with a minuteness far exceeding that of their creation, and it was well into the afternoon before the family were at last reconciled with their belongings, which the customs-men had strewn about the carriages in total confusion. Having nothing left to disorder or no-one left to discommode, the family were pronounced safe to be allowed their freedom upon the streets of Paris.