Word: cafe
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...some short while this sort of thing went on. A man who had sat long in a cafe would suddenly spring up upon his chair and shout out, "Vive L'Empire," it didn't matter much which, and straightway thirty more would leap up on their chairs, some laughing, some weeping in an excess of patriotic zoal all shouting in fury. Soldiers walked about in gorgeous, gilt buttoned uniforms kicking children into the gutters. Women rode in the Bois in tight waists and hats which the world was unfortunately destined to remember three quarters of a century later. Ambassadors clicked...
Moving ponderously to avenge the cuckoo of Ajaccio, a force of 800 blue-clad, blue-capped gendarmes landed from the mainland under command of General Fournier. The General's first move was to commandeer the largest table in the Cafe Napoleon, swankiest cafe in Ajaccio, only one with a plate-glass screen to protect the customers on the terrace from the mistral. He ordered two bottles of Byrrh for the use of the staff, and spread out his maps. His troops were divided into three columns and sent to scour the island...
Even so, as the week progressed sensitive General Fournier felt that the populace was not in favor of his expedition. Instantly dismissing the suggestion that feeling would improve if he would move out of the Cafe Napoleon and allow the natives to resume their accustomed seats, he wrote long appeals to the people of Corsica for support, inserted them in all Corsican newspapers. In particular he wanted to know the whereabouts of Corsica's "mastermind," Andre Spada, the bandit chief. His home had been raided; he had fled farther into the mountains...
...colporteur was reading the parable of the Prodigal Son in a Paris cafe much frequented by North African workmen. A young kabyle became greatly excited. 'It is my life you are reading!' he cried. 'I am the prodigal son.' And he rushed out into the night...
Louis Moyses, a very important gentleman with a long, full beard and a fat bank account, now runs several cafes of conventional night-club description, but his name and the name of his first cafe he owes in good part to Jean Wiener, the friend who played the piano. Poet Jean Cocteau drifted into the bare little shop one day, heard Wiener play Bach, told others. Cocteau named the place Le Boeuf sur le Toil (The Bull on the Roof). Wiener soon afterward acquired a partner, one Clement Doucet who drifted into Le Boeuf to display an elaborate invention, part...