there is a sense of peace in the
place--a reflection of the sunshine and calm of Provence, whence the
founder of the restaurant came.

The great glory of Voisin's is its cellar of red wines, its Burgundies
and Bordeaux. The Bordeaux are arranged in their proper precedence, the
wines from the great vineyards first, and the rest in their correct
order down to mere bourgeois tipple. Against each brand is the price of
the vintage of all the years within a drinkable period, and the man who
knew the wine-list of Voisin's thoroughly would be the greatest
authority in the world on claret.

Mr. Rowland Strong, in his book on Paris, tells how, one Christmas Eve,
he took an Englishman to dine at Voisin's, and how that Englishman
demanded plum-pudding. The _maitre-d'hotel_ was equal to the occasion.
He was polite but firm, and his assertion that "The House of Voisin does
not serve, has never served, and will never serve, plum-pudding" settled
the matter.

If the Anglais and Voisin's may be said to have much of their interest
in their "past," Paillard's should be taken as a restaurant which is the
type and parent of the present up-to-date restaurant. The white
restaurant on the Boulevard des Italiens has kept at the top of the tree
for many years, and has sent out more culinary missionaries to improve
the taste of dining man than any other establishment in Paris. Joseph,
who brought the Marivaux to such a high pitch of fame before he
emigrated to London, came from Paillard's and so did Frederic of the
Tour d'Argent, of whom I shall have something to say later on. Henri of
the Gaillon, Notta, Charles of Foyot's--all were trained at Paillard's.

The restaurant has its history, and its long list of great patrons. _Le
Desir de Roi_, which generally appears in the menu of any important
dinner at Paillard's, and which has _foie gras_ as its principal
component, has been eaten by a score of kings at one time or another,
our own gracious Majesty heading the list. The restaurant at first was
contained in one small room. Then the shop of Isabelle, the Jockey Club
flower-girl, which was next door, was acquired, and lastly another
little shop was taken in, the entrance changed from the front to its
present position at the side, the accountant's desk put out of sight,
and the little musicians' gallery built--for Paillard's has moved with
the time and now has a band of Tziganes, much to the grief of men like
myself who prefer conversation to