oon meet
again.

They met again; Aristide saw to that. They met again that very afternoon
in the cafe on the Place Arago. When Aristide entered he saw the Mayor
seated at a table in the company of another prosperous, red-ribboned
gentleman. Aristide saluted politely and addressed the Mayor. The Mayor
saluted and presented him to Monsieur Querin, the President of the
Syndicat d'Initiative of the town of Perpignan. Monsieur Querin saluted
and declared himself enchanted at the encounter. Aristide stood
gossiping until the Mayor invited him to take a place at the table and
consume liquid refreshment. Aristide glowingly accepted the invitation
and cast a look of triumph around the cafe. Not to all mortals is it
given to be the boon companion of a Mayor and a President of the
Syndicat d'Initiative!

Then ensued a conversation momentous in its consequences.

The Syndicat d'Initiative is a semi-official body existing in most
provincial towns in France for the purpose of organising public
festivals for the citizens and developing the resources and
possibilities of the town for the general amenity of visitors. Now
Perpignan is as picturesque, as sun-smitten and, in spite of the icy
tramontana, even as joyous a place as tourist could desire; and the
Carnival of Perpignan, as a spontaneous outburst of gaiety and
pageantry, is unique in France. But Perpignan being at the end of
everywhere and leading nowhere attracts very few visitors. Biarritz is
on the Atlantic coast at the other end of the Pyrenees; Hyeres, Cannes
and Monte Carlo on the other side of the Gulf of Lions. No English or
Americans--the only visitors of any account in the philosophy of
provincial France--flock to Perpignan. This was a melancholy fact
bewailed by Monsieur Querin. The town was perishing from lack of
Anglo-Saxon support. Monsieur Coquereau, the Mayor, agreed. If the
English and Americans came in their hordes to this paradise of mimosa,
fourteenth century architecture, sunshine and unique Carnival, the
fortunes of all the citizens would be assured. Perpignan would out-rival
Nice. But what could be done?

"Advertise it," said Aristide. "Flood the English-speaking world with
poetical descriptions of the place. Build a row of palatial hotels in
the new part of the town. It is not known to the Anglo-Saxons."

"How can you be certain of that?" asked Monsieur Querin.

"_Parbleu!_" he cried, with a wide gesture. "I have known the English
all my life. I sp