There are eight marble-top tables lining the two walls, and each table is held sacred to its proper occupants, and likewise are the numbered hooks and napkins. An invasion of these preserves is a breech of etiquette intolerable in Bohemia. Even the white cat is an essential part of the establishment, for it purringly welcomes the patrons and chases out stray dogs. Situated as it is, in a group of three theatres and several _café_s chantants, it is the rendezvous of the actors and actresses of the neighborhood. They hold the three tables but one from the kitchen, on one side, and they are a jolly crowd, the actresses particularly. [Illustration: 0157] They are a part of the Quartier and echo its spirit. Although full of mischief and fun, the actresses would never be suspected of singing the naughty songs that so delight the gallery gods and so often wring a murmur of protest from the pit. There are ten who dine here, but from their incessant chatter and laughter you would think them twenty. On Friday evenings, when the songs and plays are changed, they rehearse their pieces at dinner. [Illustration: 0159] Bishop is openly fond of Mademoiselle Brunerye, a sparkling little brunette singer, who scolds him tragically for drawing horrible caricatures of her when he sits before the footlights to hear her sing. But it is always she that begins the trouble at the theatre. If Bishop is there, she is sure to see him and to interpolate something in her song about "_mon amant Américain_," and sing it pointedly at him, to the amusement of the audience and his great discomfiture; and so he retorts with the caricatures. Upon entering the restaurant the actresses remove their hats and wraps and make themselves perfectly at home. They are the life of Darblay's; we couldn't possibly spare them. One of the actors is a great swell,--M. Fontaine, leading man at the Théâtre du Montparnasse, opposite. [Illustration: 9160] His salary is a hundred francs a week; this makes the smaller actors look up to him, and enables him to wear a very long coat, besides gloves, patent-leather shoes, and a shiny top-hat. He occupies the place of honor, and Marie smiles when she serves him, and gives him a good measure of wine. He rewards this attention by depositing two sous in the tip-box every Friday night. Then there are M. Marius, M. Zecca, and M. Dufauj who make people scream with laughter at the Gaieté, and M. Coppée, the heavy villain of the terrible eyes in "Les Deux Gosses," and Mademoiselle Walzy, whose dark eyes sparkle mischief as she peeps over her glass, and Mademoiselle Minion, who kicks shockingly high to accentuate her songs, and eight other actresses just as saucy and pretty.