Now Parisians gaze with curiosity at the astonishing aedicule of Porte Maillot, whose lines remind some of a dragonfly spreading its wings, to others a modest upturned umbrella. The boldest walkers descend the stairs, they marvel at the delicious temperature that reigns in the entrance hall. They inhale with mitigated sympathy the healthy odor of creosote with which the atmosphere has been perfumed. Then they take their ticket and arrive on the platform. There they admire the beautiful carriages so well varnished. In each compartment, an employee ensures that the doors are closed. By car ! The train leaves at full speed, burning the stations (ten out of eighteen) not yet open to the public.
What a miracle! We arrive at the terminus without incident. No tunnel collapsed, no traveler was electrocuted!
But it's about getting the job done. Five more lines are to be built. Paris is becoming a veritable construction site, to the great displeasure of cab drivers and four-season merchants.
A thousand technical difficulties arise. They are, most of the time, due to water infiltration. In the region of Avenue Gambetta, the land is made up of aquiferous sands that need to be drained. The southern circular line passes, on the other hand. by old quarries that threaten to collapse.