A CAFE IN PARIS The Paris taximeters are good, and our progress was rapid.

We passed through the crowded streets, where the women spread themselves out like beautiful butterflies, where the electric lights were deadened by the brilliance of the moon, where men, bent double over the handles of their bicycles, shot hither and thither with great paper lanterns alight in front of them.

We passed into the quieter streets, though even here the wayfarers whom we met were obviously bent on pleasure, up the hill, till at last we pulled up at one of the best-known restaurants in the locality.

Here Louis was welcomed as a prince.

The manager, with many exclamations and gesticulations, shook hands with him like a long-lost brother.