“And yet how sorry it was to say goodbye to Marcel! The last time we sat in a cafe, on Kannobier Street, we saw the last time a raggedie with a basket in his hands comes running up to you and whispers with a mysterious and frightened look : "Beast" ("Beaux fistaches") - beautiful, fried in salt pistachios, centimes apiece, and a blackwashed vagabond counts with his dirty fingers a piece of pistachios, like some rare jewel . It was necessary to climb a huge elevator to the top of the mountain and go to the cathedral Notre Dame de la Garde .. There are two aisles: one at the bottom, the other at the top. Lower locked with iron grille, upper open to public view. One sight suddenly tenderly and deeply excites me.