As aircraft hangars had quickly grown up around Paris—they are to airplanes what harbors are to boats—and ever since the day at La Raspelière when my almost mythical meeting with an aviator, whose flight overhead had made my horse rear, had become for me a kind of image of freedom, I liked—and Albertine, with her passion for all sports, agreed—to conclude our days out with a visit to one of these aerodromes.
