He was tall and fair, and something like me. He had just
arrived in Paris."
Monsieur Alphonse smiled. He rarely forgot a face, and the young
Englishman's tip had been munificent.
"Perfectly, Mademoiselle," he answered. "They sent for me because
Monsieur spoke no French."
"My chambermaid, Marie, told me that you might perhaps know how he
proposed to spend the evening," she continued. "He was quite a stranger
in Paris, and he may have asked for some information."
Monsieur Alphonse smiled, and extended his hands.
"It is quite true," he answered. "He asked me where to go, and I say to
the Folies Bergeres. Then he said he had heard a good deal of the supper
cafes, and he asked me which was the most amusing. I tell him the Cafe
Montmartre. He wrote it down."
"Do you think that he meant to go there?" she asked.
"But certainly. He promised to come and tell me the next day how he
amused himself."
"The Cafe Montmartre. Where is it?" she asked.
"In the Place de Montmartre. But Mademoiselle pardons--she will
understand that it is a place for men."
"Are women not admitted?" she asked.
Alphonse smiled.
"But--yes.
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