1936 On the Continent

it. They belong to that category who live in cheap boarding-houses either at Monte Carlo or somewhere near on the French Riviera, and come everyday for an hour or two to the casino to make the paltry sum they pay for their board. Of course, they are not very welcome.
    It is very easy to find the way to the casino—just follow the stream or the chap in the dinner jacket with a béret. He is a croupier. And it is as easy to slip in. The entrée has been abolished and by showing your passport in the office to the left of the entrance you get your ticket for a day, a week or a month.
    Absolute silence reigns inside that Temple of Mammon. It is only broken by the monotonous voice of the croupiers: “Messieurs, faites vos jeux. Les jeux sont faits. Rien ne va plus.” Do not raise your voice, otherwise you will get furious glances from the people sitting at the green tables, eagerly taking down every
coup
, carefully completing their own home-made system which is to provide them with bread for the rest of their life.
The Regulars
    The players are not a very impressive lot. There is little of the elegance, of the wonderful jewels you usually connect with the casino of Monte Carlo. It is on the whole a rather cheap-looking crowd, sometimes so shabby that you cannot help wondering how they can afford to risk even 5 francs. But of course those who have caught that dangerous gambling fever are not to be reckoned as normal people. They are just gamblers, who do not bother about anything so trivial as food, and would rather live on a cup of coffee than miss a chance at the casino. They are sometimes—now I am speaking of the women, and they are certainly not in the minority—so superstitious that you do not know whether to find it ridiculous or pathetic. They would never forget to bow to the new moon, they will dash down the stairs and climb them again if they forgot to step on the first stair with the right foot, and they do not mind starting a row in the cloakroom if they do not get their favourite and of course luck-bringing number.
    Very few ever get to know the other part of the casino building. This contains not only the gambling rooms. The casino is the centre of artistic life of Monte Carlo, and its large and beautifully decorated thearte and concert-hall sees many famous artists during the season, whichopens in the middle of January, and the most brilliant performances succeed each other.
    When you stroll out again you come into the marvellous gardens. That is the spot where people are supposed to commit suicide after having lost their money. Which it all mere nonsense.
    Close to the casino is the Café de Paris, the place for an apéritif, and even in winter you can sit outside in the lovely sunshine, hearing almost nothing but English spoken round you.
    As a matter of fact, Monte Carlo may be regarded as part of the British Empire. Ninety per cent. or more of the visitors come from England and its colonies, and many have settled down there for good, preferring to live in a country where they get, apart from the lovely climate, good value for their money.
    There is one point people are generally not aware of. Monte Carlo is not an expensive place. It may be, as indeed any place may. But prices have been considerably brought down.
Hotels
    In the leading hotel, the Hôtel de Paris, you get full
pension
for a couple of pounds a day. Some years ago they would have charged you double. The Hermitage, which affords a perfect view, and the Metropole are a little cheaper but still on the expensive side. Then there are plenty of good first-class hotels where you get board for less than a pound a day during the season, and still cheaper during the rest of the year.
    There is Monte Carlo Palace just above the casino gardens, the Mirabeau close to the railway station, with a garden of its own, the Hôtel du Louvre in Boulevard du Moulin, the shopping street of Monte Carlo, the Windsor with almost none but British visitors, the Bristol and Beau Rivage, both a few steps from the tiny harbour. If you go to the latter you will be greeted by a little barking beast. He is a dear little fellow, worth not a penny less than 5,000 francs. He was left there by a lady who could not settle her bill, and the hall porter is still scratching his head over the problem whether the tail belongs to him or the other part. She owed him half the sum.…
    These are only a few of the many hotels. I could not possibly give you a full list. Almost every