Most probably there's a fete going on somewhere, if we only knew where," "Can't we find out ?" "Oh, yes--we can drop into a Cafe and look at the _Petites Affiches_; only that entails an absinthe; or we can go into the nearest Omnibus Bureau and see the notices on the walls, which will be cheaper." So we threaded our way along the narrow thoroughfares of the Ile de la Cite, and came presently to an Omnibus Bureau on the Quai de l'Horloge, overlooking the Pont Neuf and the river.

Here the first thing we saw was a flaming placard setting forth the pleasures and attractions of the great annual fete at Courbevoie; a village on the banks of the Seine, a mile or two beyond Neuilly.
"_Voila, notre affaire_!" said Mueller, gaily.

"We can't do better than steer straight for Courbevoie." Saying which, he hailed a passing fiacre and bade the coachman drive to the Embarcadere of the Rive Droite.
"We shall amuse ourselves famously at Courbevoie," he said, as we rattled over the stones.

"We'll dine at the Toison d'Or--an excellent little restaurant overlooking the river; and if you're fond of angling, we can hire a punt and catch our own fish for dinner.

Then there will be plenty of fiddling and dancing at the guingettes and gardens in the evening.