It is noon. It's lunch time, and, as La Réclame knows that a hungry stomach has no more eyes than ears, it rests. Illuminated vehicles park lined up at the bottom of the sidewalks, while their hitches stretch their tired limbs and light the comforting cigarette. — To be immobile, these vehicles nevertheless retain their motley appearance for all, terrifying for quadrupeds, and like their daily station coincides with the return of the rides, it puts desperation the squires responsible for watching over the first steps of young Amazons, whose dismayed mounts manifest in various ways their invincible repugnance.