ris, though, indeed, its past was romantic enough,
bordering as it does upon the real Latin Quarter of the students.
Bounded on one side by the immense domain of the Luxembourg, it
stretched away indefinitely beyond Vaugiraud, almost to Clamart and
Sceaux.

[Illustration: _The Luxembourg Gardens_]

At No. 27 Boulevard Montparnasse is an elaborate seventeenth house-front
half hidden by the "modern style" flats of twentieth century Paris. This
relic of the _grand siecle_, with its profusion of sculptured details,
was the house bought by Louis XIV about 1672 and given to the "widow
Scarron," the "young and beautiful widow of the court," as a
recompense for the devotion with which she had educated the three
children of the Marquise de Montespan, who, in 1673, were legitimatized
as princes of the royal house--the Duc de Maine, the Comte de Vexin and
Mademoiselle de Mantes.

Madame Scarron, who became in time Madame de Maintenon, the "_vraie
reine du roi_," died in 1719, and the house passed to La Tour
d'Auvergne.

On this same side of the river are the Palais de l'Institut and the
Palais Bourbon. The Palais de l'Institut, or Palais Mazarin, is hardly
to be considered one of the domestic establishments, the dwellings of
kings, with which contemporary Paris was graced. It was but a creation
of Mazarin, the minister, on the site of the Hotel de Nesle, and was
first known as the Palais des Quatre Nations, where were educated, at
the expense of the Cardinal, sixty young men of various nationalities.

The old chapel has since been transformed into the "Salle des Seances"
of the Institut de France, the Five French Academies. The black, gloomy
facade of the edifice, to-day, in spite of the cupola which gives a
certain inspiring dignity, is not lovely, and tradition and sentiment
alone give it its present interest, though it is undeniably
picturesque.

An inscription used to be on the pedestal of one of the fountains
opposite the entrance which read:

"Superbe habitant du desert
En ce lieu, dis moi, que fais tu
--Tu le vois a mon habit vert
Je suis membre de l'institut."

If the inscription were still there it would save the asking of a lot of
silly questions by strangers who pass this way for the first time. The
Palais de l'Institut is one of the sights of Paris, and its functions
are notable, though hardly belonging to the romantic school of past
days, for at present poets often make their entree via Montmar