“The little dancer rubs her bare arms, the rather red, coarse-skinned arms of an undernourished blonde, and breathes in the hot dry air of the restaurant as if it were ozone. On a polished strip of linoleum in the center of the big dining room a few couples are already revolving, among them a girl from Normandy in the lace headdress of the Caux district, a painted hussy with a red silk scarf, an Egyptian dancing girl, and a curly-headed baby wearing a tartan sash. This establishment, highly rate...d on the Riviera, employs some dozen dance hostesses and as many singers. Little Maud comes here from the Eldorado, where she croons and gambols through an “English Number.” She has just arrived, after running all the way through an icy wind, to earn her twenty francs’ pittance at the Restaurant of the Good Hostess, from midnight till six in the morning. She flexes her knees a little as she leans against the wall, and, after a rough calculation of her dancing at both performances at the Eldorado, and now waltzing here till dawn, finds it amounts to seven hours of valse and cakewalk, not counting dressing and undressing, rubbing on and removing her makeup.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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