Americans -- Europe -- History -- 20th century; Dreiser, Theodore, 1871-1945 -- Travel -- Europe; Europe -- Description and travel
I speculated interestedly as we seated ourselves as to what drew all
these people from all parts of the world to see this, to be here
together. Barfleur was eager to come here first and to have me see
this, without delay. I do not know where you could go, and for a
hundred francs see more of really amazing feminine beauty. I do not
know where for the same money you could buy the same atmosphere of
lightness and gaiety and enthusiasm. This place was fairly vibrating
with a wild desire to live. I fancy the majority of those who were
here for the first time--particularly of the young--would tell you
that they would rather be here than in any other spot you could name.
The place had a peculiar glitter of beauty which was compounded by
the managers with great skill. The waiters were all of them deft,
swift, suave, good-looking; the dancers who stepped out on the floor
after a few moments were of an orchid-like Spanish type--ruddy, brown,
full-bodied, black-haired, black-eyed. They had on dresses that were as
close fitting as the scales of a fish and that glittered with the same
radiance. They waved and rattled and clashed castanets and tambourines
and danced wildly and sinuously to and fro among the tables. Some of
them sang, or voices accompanied them from the raised platform devoted
to music.
After a while red, blue, pink and green balloons were introduced,
anchored to the champagne bottles, and allowed to float gaily in the
air. Paper parcels of small paste balls of all colors, as light as
feathers, were distributed for the guests to throw at one another. In
ten minutes a wild artillery battle was raging. Young girls were up
on their feet, their hands full of these colored weapons, pelting the
male strangers of their selection. You would see tall Englishmen and
Americans exchanging a perfect volley of colored spheres with girls of
various nationalities, laughing, chattering, calling, screaming. The
cocotte in all her dazzling radiance was here--exquisitely dressed, her
white arms shimmering, perfectly willing to strike up an understanding
with the admirer who was pelting her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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