But there can be too much of a good thing. As a whole day spent among the wonders of the Louvre fatigues the mind and body, so the constant succession of dazzling windows in the Palais-Royal becomes after a while tiresome, and the pretty little park is sought for rest and refreshment. [Illustration: MOTHER AND BONNE--PALAIS-ROYAL.] There the scene changes again, and a new and interesting phase of the Palais-Royal's attractions is seen. Under the long rows of trees that fringe the busy galleries are groups of women enjoying the cool breeze that just moves the branches above them, and tempers the heat that elsewhere is oppressive. They have some little trifle of fancy work in their hands, and as they languidly ply the needle they talk. It may be too warm to knit. It is never too warm to gossip. Closely imitating these are the bonnes, or nurse girls, old and young, who chatter away like magpies, while their charges are amusing themselves making pictures in the sand. The youngsters romp and roll about with all the pleasure of childhood. They don't care whether the Palais-Royal ever saw bloodsheds and riots or not. It makes a good playground for them, and that is all they want. [Illustration: THE YOUTHFUL BONNE.] Then the concerts that are given there during the afternoons are enjoyable, and they always attract large audiences. The entire space on the south side is occupied by all kinds and conditions of people, and like all French assemblages, it is quiet and orderly. The music, if not of a high classical standard, is good, and the people enjoy it. Given a little white table in the open air, some light Offenbachian music and a glass of wine, and the Frenchman is happy. [Illustration: THE AGED BONNE.] The restaurants in the Palais-Royal form another by no means unimportant feature, for the average American is no less fond of a good dinner than the French _bon vivant_, and in these pleasant places he can find the perfection of good living. The skill of French cooks is acknowledged everywhere. Here he is on his native heath, and is seen, or tasted rather, to his best advantage. [Sidenote: A TALE OF THE COMMUNE.] The clerk or bookkeeper whose salary is not in keeping with his tastes, takes his modest dinner in one of the second-floor restaurants, where he gets a small bottle of claret and a well cooked, well served meal for two francs. The place is clean, the surroundings cheerful, and though there are none of those delicate trifles the French cook delights in making, there is an abundance of hunger-satisfying viands prepared in a most appetizing manner, and they are to him better than the delicacies that grace a more elaborate table. The more pretentious man, or the one having more money, goes to more pretentious places, and takes a dinner of several courses for five francs. There is a pleasing variety of soup, fish and entrées, with a dessert, and, if desired, coffee and cognac afterward, all prepared in good style, and well served.