. The real Latin quarter . the place ; silent poets, long haired,pale, and always writing ; serious-mindedlawyers, lunching alone, and fat merchantswho eat and drink methodically. Then there are bizarre cafes, like thedHarcourt, crowded at night with noisywomen tawdry in ostrich plumes, cheapfeather boas, and much rouge. The dHar-court at midnight is ablaze with light, butthe crowd is common and you move on upthe boulevard under the trees, past theshops full of Quartier fashions — velvetcoats, with standing collars buttoning closeunder the chin; flamboyant black silkscarfs tied in a huge bow;
. The real Latin quarter . the place ; silent poets, long haired,pale, and always writing ; serious-mindedlawyers, lunching alone, and fat merchantswho eat and drink methodically. Then there are bizarre cafes, like thedHarcourt, crowded at night with noisywomen tawdry in ostrich plumes, cheapfeather boas, and much rouge. The dHar-court at midnight is ablaze with light, butthe crowd is common and you move on upthe boulevard under the trees, past theshops full of Quartier fashions — velvetcoats, with standing collars buttoning closeunder the chin; flamboyant black silkscarfs tied in a huge bow; queer broad-brimmed, black hats without which notypes wardrobe is complete. On the corner facing the square, and op-posite the Luxembourg gate, is the Tav-erne du Pantheon. This is the most bril-liant cafe and restaurant of the Quarter,forming a V with its long terrace, at thecorner of the boulevard and the rue Soufflot,at the head of which towers the superbdome of the Pantheon. It is 6 and the terrace, four rows33. deep with little round tables, is rapidly fill-ing. The white-aproned garcons are hurry-ing about or squeezing past your table, asthey take the various orders. Un demi! un ! shouts the garcon. Deux pernod nature, deux! cries an-other, and presently the Omnibus in hisblack apron hurries to your table, holdingbetween his knuckles, by their necks, half adozen bottles of different aperitifs, for it ishe who fills your glass. It is the custom to do most of ones corre-spondence in these cafes. The garcon bringsyou a portfolio containing note-paper, a bot-tle of violet ink, an impossible pen that spat-ters, and a sheet of pink blotting-paper thatdoes not absorb. With these and your
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectartists, bookyear1901
