Bobino

And in the spring of nineteen seventy-five, she gets her last great night.

On the eighth of April, at the Bobino Theatre in Paris, she opens a revue celebrating fifty years since La Revue Nègre.

Fifty years since the feathers and the crossed eyes.

The house is full of the famous and the loyal.

She has to.

And in the spring of 1975, she gets her last great night.

On the eighth of April, at the Bobino Theatre in Paris, she opens a revue celebrating fifty years since La Revue Nègre.

Fifty years since the feathers and the crossed eyes.

Then remembering that there was a little tavern nearby where he had more than once procured a meal at a not unreasonable rate, he directed his steps to this establishment, situated in the adjoining road and known among the lowest class of artistdom as Mother Cadet's.

It is a drinking house which is also an eating house, and its ordinary customers are carters of the Orleans railway, singing ladies of Montparnasse, and juvenile leads from the Bobino Theatre.

During the warm season, the students of the numerous painters' studios which border on the Luxembourg, the unappreciated and unedited men of the letters, the writers of leaders in mysterious newspapers, throng to dine at Mother Cadet's, which is famous for its rabbit stew, its veritable sauerkraut, and a mild white wine which smacks of flint.

Chonard sat down in the grove, for so at Mother Cadet's they called the scattered foliage of two or three rickety trees whose sickly boughs had been trained into a sort of arbor.