"At the _Cirque Parisien_? There's Mademoiselle Blanche, the acrobat. They say she's a marvel, monsieur,--and beautiful,--the most beautiful woman in Paris. She dives from the top of the building backwards--hundreds of feet." Andre nodded. Monsieur dropped the paper, paid his bill, left a little fee for the _garcon_, and took himself off. At the entrance he stopped and surveyed the surging crowd in the _Boulevard Montmartre_. He had just finished an excellent dinner with a glass of _chartreuse verte_; so he felt particularly complacent. As he prodded his teeth with the easy grace of the Frenchman who knows no shame of the toothpick, he tried to think out a plan for the evening. Nothing bett…
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