Le Sac sur la Banquette

They sometimes arrive with one bag. Sometimes three. Sometimes four.

The afternoon’s shopping enters the restaurant with them. The bags have to go somewhere.

Some hesitate before placing them on the floor. A chair is moved. A corner of the banquette is cleared. The bag goes up.

The room has already noticed the space made for it.

What is inside matters little. What matters to the room is the space the bags occupy, and how close their owner wants to keep them.

Si la cliente veut absolument le garder près d’elle, sur la banquette, c’est déjà une indication sérieuse.

The room never asks what was bought. It watches how the client treats the bag: pushed aside with a foot, kept close, given its own chair, or left for the waiter to place.

Sometimes the bag is handled with more care than the coat.

Service adjusts without comment. A champagne bucket is moved. A passage is protected. The bag is kept from touching the floor.

Personne ne dit pourquoi. À la table voisine, on a vu aussi.

Then the menus arrive. The bags remain on the banquette. They have shown nothing of what they contain. Ils ont déjà tout dit.