The
most knowing in these matters are supposed to be Pierre, the host of
the Grand Cafe, right under the rooms of the Jockey Club, and the
rotund Henry, keeper of the Restaurant Bignon, Avenue de l'Opera, the
confidant of certain turfmen, who may favor him with invaluable hints
if their _salmis_ of woodcocks should have been a success or their
_cotelette double_ be done to a turn. Charles, of the Cafe Durand,
Place de la Madeleine, and Henry, the barber of the Boulevard des
Italiens, are also posted in the quotations and keep themselves well
informed.
On Sunday morning by ten o'clock the Bois de Boulogne is filled with
pedestrians, who take their breakfast on the grass to while away the
time of waiting. The restaurants Madrid and the Cascade, where the
tables are spread amidst flowers and shaded by trees--a feature that is
duly remembered in the bills, like an _hors d'oeuvre_--are turning
visitors away. Toward half-past two the enclosure of the paddock is
absolutely full: not a vacant chair is to be found, and a fearful
consumption of iced champagne begins at the buffet. For, strange to
say, the weather is always fine on this day, and the Encouragement
Society is as notorious for its good-luck in this respect as the
Skating Club and the Steeple-chase Society are for quite the opposite.
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