Word: bistro
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...Personal Agreement." Some 55 hours after the kidnaping, a passer-by found Eric abandoned at 12:55 one morning, weeping on the sidewalk in front of a bistro near the Arc de Triomphe. The bistro erupted in a fine frenzy of Gallic tears and cheers. The cops were summoned, and then Eric's father, who swept up his son in a blanket and carried him home. He had, reported Roland Peugeot, paid the kidnapers some ransom money, but would not say where or how much. "It was a personal agreement, and I am the only one to know what...
...Oliver Messel, is now married to the Earl of Rosse.) Also distressing is the zest with which foreign newspapers are exploring Tony's lively past. Last week the Paris France-Dimanche reported that Tony is expected to get rid of such old friends as a Hindu guitarist, a bistro owner, assorted models and cover girls, noted that two weeks ago, Tony's step-aunt, Lady Bridget Parsons, was arrested and charged with drunken driving. Tony's erstwhile great and good friend, a Chinese actress named Jackie Chan, was all too conspicuous in the British press; last week...
...more than 5,000 French prisoners escape the Germans. He spends little time in the mayor's office, can more often be found directing Dijon's traffic, perched at the top of a fireman's ladder, or passing the time of day in a workers' bistro. Convinced that Khrushchev's professed desire to end the cold war must be taken at face value, the canon weeks ago announced that if he got the chance, he would welcome Khrushchev to Dijon with a Russian-style embrace...
...begun to ask a hard question of her mirror: If spirits sag. can flesh be far behind? Standing on the brink of 40, she has avoided tristesse more successfully than most Sagan characters, but Roger, the latest of her lovers, has become much too considerate. After an evening of bistro crawling, he drops her off at her flat, saying, "I'll let you sleep. See you tomorrow, darling.'' Lately, Paule reflects, he has let her sleep more and more often...
...over Western Europe, tanned, crew-cut boys and golden girls in ponytails reluctantly faced up last week to the end of the prodigal summer, began settling back into the familiar patterns of work, family and school. Listening to their nostalgic tales of Stockholm love affairs, or bikini-and-bistro living on Spain's Costa Brava, their elders brooded over the appalling deficiencies of Europe's younger generation. To Britain's Arthur Koestler, they seemed "earnest, bland, sober ... a generation without profile, whose typical gesture is a great silent shrug." In Germany, a Volkswagen personnel man remarked with...