Envoy Extraordinary by E. Phillips Oppenheim

It was with a certain amount of reluctance that Besserley and his companion even handed their coats and hats to the waiting vestiaire when they reached the _Café des Trois Étoiles_. To Besserley, who in his younger days had known the place when it had been the rendezvous of all the famous Bohemians from every country, there was a certain sadness in the air of gloom which no efforts on the part of the performers--the cabaret show was, after all, an importation from the latest Broadway success--or the crowds who danced and supped, seemed to be able to dissipate. It was a spurious gaiety, a light-heartedness which was never convincing. Even Matresser looked around him with regret. The manager, aware of his distinguished guests, came hurrying up. Besserley did his best with a few ordinary compliments. Matresser, without enthusiasm, ordered food which he knew they should never touch and wine which they would not drink.

"It is the Parisian himself and his little companion, and the Americans who have deserted us," Louis, the proprietor of the place, confessed glancing round. _"Monsieur le Général_ observes--German, Dutch, Czechs, even from Russia. We are crowded, after a fashion, it is true, but it is with people who have never learnt to dance to the music of the times. We make rules--no one keeps them. We do our best to discourage the unwanted--they still come. Monsieur observes."