ed
fool of a world."

In this chastened mood I left him.

I learned later in the day that the appearance of the Comtesse in the
Cafe Delphine and the exodus of Paragot had caused no small sensation.
Cazalet had peeped through the glass door.

"_Cre nom de nom_, she is driving him off in her own carriage!"

He returned to the table and drank a glass of anisette to steady his
nerves. Who was the lady? Evidently Paragot was leading a double life.
Madame Boin nodded her head mysteriously as though possessed of secrets
she would not divulge. They spent the evening in profitless conjecture.
The fact remained that Paragot, the hairy disreputable scallywag, had
relations with a high born and beautiful woman. It was stupefying.
_C'etait abracadabrant!_ That was the final word. When the Quartier
Latin calls a thing _abracadabrant_ there is no more to be said.

The Cafe Delphine was far from being the school of discretion and good
manners that Paragot frequented in his youth, but such was his personal
influence that when he reappeared in his usual place no one dared allude
to the disconcerting incident. Paragot had recovered from the chastened
mood and was gay, Rabelaisian, and with great gestures talked of all
subjects under heaven. One of the International Exhibitions was in
prospect and many architects' offices were busy with projects for the
new buildings. A discussion on these having arisen--two of our company
were architectural students--Paragot declared that the Exhibition would
be incomplete without a Palais de Dipsomanie. Indeed it should be the
central feature.

"_Tiens!_" he cried, "I have an inspiration! Some one give me a soft
black pencil. Hercule, clear the table."

He caught the napkin from beneath Hercule's arm and as soon as the
glasses were removed, he dried the marble top, and holding the pencil
draughtsman's fashion, a couple of inches from the point, began to draw
with feverish haste. His long fingers worked magically. We bent over
him, holding our breath, as gradually emerged the most marvellous,
weird, riotous dream of drunken architecture the world could ever
behold. There were columns admirably indicated, upside down. The domes
looked like tops of half inflated balloons. Enormous buttresses
supporting nothing leaned incapable against the building. Bottles and
wine cups formed part of the mad construction. Satyrs' heads leered
instead of windows. The whole palace looked reeling drunk. It was a
tre