There was a small bar attached to the theatre. The actresses and extras would come and meet the gentlemen they had been winking at on the set ten minutes before. They were sometimes still in stage costume, under their coats; that is to say, they wore only their underwear. The little bar with the naked women was truly charming.
I went back there many times. I knew Marie-Louise, Yvette, Liseron and others. I collected a great number of stories and met one of the most charming little bedfellows of my life.
The account of all these adventures of the bar and Marie-Louise could make a real novel. I have not failed to write it for my own amusement; and perhaps that of the people who will do me the honour of reading it, on the strength of the title, with a hope (let us not think ourselves better than we are) to find some naughtiness in it.
II
So, after the morning, these ladies meet at the little bar. We talk among friends of the house.
There is no talk of internal or external politics, nor of literature or new plays. If the heads of government leaders came to the little bar — perhaps they do — they would understand that the indifference of the people is the strength of the Regime; and if the writers and playwrights were to come to the the ignorance of these ladies and their friends, they would take a great lesson in modesty by meditating on the words of St. John: Vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas; all is vanity, and nothing but vanity.
Conversations are mainly about love; and also about money. The idea of money is closely linked to the idea of love in the tiny brains of these ladies. For lives of high-expense kill any concept of the simple "crush". How times have changed!
