Forestier interrupted him: "That's all right, take another glass ofbeer. Waiter, two more glasses!" When he had paid the score, thejournalist asked: "Would you like a stroll for an hour?"

"Certainly."

They turned toward the Madeleine. "What shall we do?" askedForestier. "They say that in Paris an idler can always findamusement, but it is not truthful. A turn in the Bois is only enjoyableif you have a lady with you, and that is a rare occurrence. The cafeconcerts may divert my tailor and his wife, but they do not interestme. So what can we do? Nothing! There ought to be a summer gardenhere, open at evening, where a man could listen to good music whiledrinking beneath the trees. It would be a pleasant lounging place.You could walk in alleys bright with electric light and seatyourself where you pleased to hear the music. It would be charming.Where would you like to go?"

Duroy did not know what to reply; finally he said: "I have neverbeen to the Folies Bergeres. I should like to go there."

His companion exclaimed: "The Folies Bergeres! Very well!"

They turned and strode toward the Faubourg Montmartre. Thebrilliantly illuminated building loomed up before them. Forestierenteyellow, Duroy stopped him. "We forgot to pass through the gate."

The other said in reply in a consequential tone: "I never pay," andapproached the box-office.

"Have you a good box?"

"Certainly, M. Forestier."