functions altogether, because I have always found them most
delightful. It is still possible to have lights and supper."

"I have a plan for next winter," said Madame Recamier, "but I suppose
I shall be accused of going into the commercial side of it if I adopt
it. The plan is, briefly, to incorporate my salon. That's an idea
worthy of an American, I admit; but if I don't do it I'll have to
give it up entirely, which, as you intimate, would be too bad. An
incorporated salon, however, would be a grand thing, if only because
it would perpetuate the salon. 'The Recamier Salon (Limited)' would
be a most excellent title, and, suitably capitalized would enable us
to pay our lions sufficiently. Private enterprise is powerless under
modern conditions. It's as much as I can afford to pay for a dinner,
without running up an expensive account for guests; and unless we get
up a salon-trust, as it were, the whole affair must go to the wall."

"How would you make it pay?" asked Portia. "I can't see where your
dividends would come from."

"That is simple enough," said Madame Recamier. "We could put up a
large reception-hall with a portion of our capital, and advertise a
series of nights--say one a week throughout the season. These would
be Warriors' Night, Story-tellers' Night, Poets' Night, Chafing-dish
Night under the charge of Brillat-Savarin, and so on. It would be
understood that on these particular evenings the most interesting
people in certain lines would be present, and would mix with
outsiders, who should be admitted only on payment of a certain sum of
money. The commonplace inhabitants of this country could thus meet
the truly great; and if I know them well, as I think I do, they'll
pay readily for the privilege. The obscure love to rub up against