all we had to
do in them. We were forced to treat it as a mere halt, regrettable but
unavoidable, in the day's appointed task, whether we ate it at the
_Salon_ to save time or in some near little restaurant to save money.
Often we were tempted, and few temptations are more difficult to resist
than the unfolding of the big, soft French napkin at noon and the
arrival of the radishes and butter and the long crisp French bread. When
I was alone I escaped by going to one of the little tables in that
gloomy corner of the _Salon_ restaurant where there was no napkin to be
unfolded, no radishes and butter to lead to indiscretion, and nothing
more elaborate was served than a sandwich or a _brioche_, a cup of
coffee or the glass of Madeira which sentiment makes it a duty for the
good Philadelphian to drink whenever and wherever it comes his way. The
temptation being so strong, it is useless to pretend that we never fell.
If we had not, I should not have memories of breakfasts in the _Salon_,
under the trees at Ledoyen's, on the _Tour Eiffel_, in the classic shade
of the Palais Royal from which all the old houses had not been swept
away, and as far from the scene of work as the close neighborhood of the
_Bourse_ where we could scarcely have got by accident. But the thought
of the work waiting was for me the disquieting mummy served with every
course of the feast. Not until the _Salon_ door closed upon my drooping
back and weary feet, turning me out whether I would or no, in the late
hours of the afternoon, was I at liberty to remember how many other
things there are in life besides work.

III

The hour when all Paris had settled down to the business of pleasure--to
proving itself the abomination of desolation to those who were already
too sure to be in need of a proof--was an enchanting hour to find one's
self at liberty. The heat of the day was over, the air was cool, the
light golden, the important question of dining could be considered in
comfort on enticing little chairs in the shady alleys of the
_Champs-Elysees_ or, better still, on little chairs no less enticing
with little tables in front of them at the nearest _cafe_, where an
_aperitif_ was to be sipped even if it were no more deadly than a
_groseille_ or a _grenadine_. What the _aperitif_ was did not matter;
what did, was the reason it gave for half an hour's loafing before
dinner with all the loafing town.

[Illustration: Etching by Joseph Pennell
THE HALF HOUR B