. Bohemian Paris of to-day . upon therevellers assembled beneath them in the cool evenino-air. On one side of the garden stretched Paris fardown and away, and on the other side blazed theMoulin de la Galette through the windows. A waltz was now being danced. Strange to say, itwas the one dismal feature of the evening, and thatwas because the French do not know how to dance it, reversino beino- unknown. And there was an oddvariety of ways in which the men held their partnersand the dancers each other. Some grasped eachother tightly about the waist with both arms, or sim-ilarly about the necks o
. Bohemian Paris of to-day . upon therevellers assembled beneath them in the cool evenino-air. On one side of the garden stretched Paris fardown and away, and on the other side blazed theMoulin de la Galette through the windows. A waltz was now being danced. Strange to say, itwas the one dismal feature of the evening, and thatwas because the French do not know how to dance it, reversino beino- unknown. And there was an oddvariety of ways in which the men held their partnersand the dancers each other. Some grasped eachother tightly about the waist with both arms, or sim-ilarly about the necks or shoulders, and lookedstraight into each others face without a smile or anoccasional word. It was all done in deadly earnest,as a serious work. It was in the quadrille that thefun came, when the girls varied the usual order bypointing their toes toward the chandeliers with aswish of white skirts tnat made the by-standers cry, Encore, Marcelle ! The men, yearning for a shareof the applause, cut up all sorts of antics and ca-. LE MOULIN DE LA GALETTE pers, using their arms and legs with incredible agil-ity, making grotesque faces, and wearing hideousfalse noses and piratical moustaches. Securing a partner for a dance was the easiestthing possible. Any girl was eligible,—simply theasking, the assent, and away they went. Bishops pencil kept moving rapidly as he caughtfleeting notes of faces, dresses, attitudes—every-thing—for his unfinished piece at the studio. Anumber of promenaders, attracted by his sketching,stopped to watch him. That dance was now finished,and the dancers separated wherever they stopped, andturned away to seek their separate friends ; there wasno waste of time in escorting the girls to seats, forthat is not fashionable at Montmartre. The girlscame flocking about Bishop, curious over his work,and completely shut out his view. Oh ! exclaimedone saucy petite blonde, let me see my portrait! Isaw you sketching me during the dance. Etmoi,—moi aussi! cried th
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidbohemianpari, bookyear1900
