is red and you spare me your observations on Americans?'
'Huffy. Well, it's the war,' Lady Elizabeth said cheerfully, 'it's done terrible things to people's dispositions.'
They were across the street and in the sun and Anne was saying, 'If anything bores me, it's Americans are moral, and Frenchmen lecherous, and Englishmen empire-builders. ...'
The tall woman came out of the shop. They could imagine the scent of the shop, which would come with her; they could imagine the grey-clad enamelled saleswomen standing there, in the scented grey room behind her, folding up the transparent underwear. The tall woman had opened the door and walked out with ease and assurance, and now she stopped in the sun, as if she were alone in the street or alone in a streetless world, and leaned against the wall, out of sight of the shop, and put one black-gloved hand over her eyes. She stood this way for a moment, and anyone passing might have thought the lady was suddenly ill, dizzy, feeling faint. Her shoulders, which were thin and stylishly square, lost their shape, and she no longer seemed tall. Then she took her hand from her eyes, straightened herself, and turned, walking towards the Place de la Concorde. The ease and assurance were there, but she had commanded her body and was walking as she intended to walk, by act of will.
They had seen it was Evangeline, at once, and started to join her when she covered her eyes. They stopped and pretended to be looking in a shop window and waited. They watched Evangeline pass through the crowds on the pavement and did not move.
'Should I hurry and cross over by the Louvre and get home first?' Lady Elizabeth said, 'or let her go and come in a little later?'
'She'll be going home?'
'Of course.'
'What do you suppose happened?'
'They refused to serve her, obviously. You can't think how patriotic these people are, if their clientele was entirely Black Marketeers or collaborators or Germans. And if your husband is in gaol, you are really fair game.'
'And then again,' Anne said, 'maybe some of them lost their husbands in the war or their boy friends to the Gestapo. You never can tell.'
'Why don't you go in and have a lovely time being patriotic with them?'
'Oh, Liz, for God's sake, don't let's quarrel about this. What is the use?'
'I'll give her time to get home. Come on, let's have a gaseous at Weber's. I'll give her a quarter of an hour.'
They found a small sticky table at Weber's and the waiter was hostile. There was no beer, they knew better than to order coffee, and the gazeux — which became their inevitable choice - was the colour of blood and tasted of chemical cherries. Around them shabby pallid people read the newspapers with some sort of desperation, and no one laughed about anything at all. There was not even one couple holding hands. Anne remembered Weber's with tenderness, but it was a ten-year-old memory. That was the time when one's friends were just one's friends, and there were no problems that could not be solved, and in the morning one came here, serene and smoothed, and ate breakfast with a man one loved, and read only the parts of the paper which were funny, and made plans for another untroubled day.
After a while, Lady Elizabeth said, 'Have you seen Clarice de Rémont?'
'No.'
'Or Agnès Farde or Bea de Branhaut or notre chère Germaine ?'
'No.'
'They're doing awfully well,' Lady Elizabeth said dreamily, 'oh, frightfully well. You can barely push your way into their salons, for the American officers. Or else they're stuffing themselves at the Embassies. It seems they were all really magnificent during the war.'
'I'm not responsible for the poor half-witted American officers,' Anne said.
'And they've all cut Evangeline,' Lady Elizabeth went on. '"Cut" is perhaps the wrong word, because to cut someone you must of course see them. Which they have not done. They speak very ill of her and Renaud and are full of virtue.'
'What did you expect them to do?'
'I moved to
'Huffy. Well, it's the war,' Lady Elizabeth said cheerfully, 'it's done terrible things to people's dispositions.'
They were across the street and in the sun and Anne was saying, 'If anything bores me, it's Americans are moral, and Frenchmen lecherous, and Englishmen empire-builders. ...'
The tall woman came out of the shop. They could imagine the scent of the shop, which would come with her; they could imagine the grey-clad enamelled saleswomen standing there, in the scented grey room behind her, folding up the transparent underwear. The tall woman had opened the door and walked out with ease and assurance, and now she stopped in the sun, as if she were alone in the street or alone in a streetless world, and leaned against the wall, out of sight of the shop, and put one black-gloved hand over her eyes. She stood this way for a moment, and anyone passing might have thought the lady was suddenly ill, dizzy, feeling faint. Her shoulders, which were thin and stylishly square, lost their shape, and she no longer seemed tall. Then she took her hand from her eyes, straightened herself, and turned, walking towards the Place de la Concorde. The ease and assurance were there, but she had commanded her body and was walking as she intended to walk, by act of will.
They had seen it was Evangeline, at once, and started to join her when she covered her eyes. They stopped and pretended to be looking in a shop window and waited. They watched Evangeline pass through the crowds on the pavement and did not move.
'Should I hurry and cross over by the Louvre and get home first?' Lady Elizabeth said, 'or let her go and come in a little later?'
'She'll be going home?'
'Of course.'
'What do you suppose happened?'
'They refused to serve her, obviously. You can't think how patriotic these people are, if their clientele was entirely Black Marketeers or collaborators or Germans. And if your husband is in gaol, you are really fair game.'
'And then again,' Anne said, 'maybe some of them lost their husbands in the war or their boy friends to the Gestapo. You never can tell.'
'Why don't you go in and have a lovely time being patriotic with them?'
'Oh, Liz, for God's sake, don't let's quarrel about this. What is the use?'
'I'll give her time to get home. Come on, let's have a gaseous at Weber's. I'll give her a quarter of an hour.'
They found a small sticky table at Weber's and the waiter was hostile. There was no beer, they knew better than to order coffee, and the gazeux — which became their inevitable choice - was the colour of blood and tasted of chemical cherries. Around them shabby pallid people read the newspapers with some sort of desperation, and no one laughed about anything at all. There was not even one couple holding hands. Anne remembered Weber's with tenderness, but it was a ten-year-old memory. That was the time when one's friends were just one's friends, and there were no problems that could not be solved, and in the morning one came here, serene and smoothed, and ate breakfast with a man one loved, and read only the parts of the paper which were funny, and made plans for another untroubled day.
After a while, Lady Elizabeth said, 'Have you seen Clarice de Rémont?'
'No.'
'Or Agnès Farde or Bea de Branhaut or notre chère Germaine ?'
'No.'
'They're doing awfully well,' Lady Elizabeth said dreamily, 'oh, frightfully well. You can barely push your way into their salons, for the American officers. Or else they're stuffing themselves at the Embassies. It seems they were all really magnificent during the war.'
'I'm not responsible for the poor half-witted American officers,' Anne said.
'And they've all cut Evangeline,' Lady Elizabeth went on. '"Cut" is perhaps the wrong word, because to cut someone you must of course see them. Which they have not done. They speak very ill of her and Renaud and are full of virtue.'
'What did you expect them to do?'
'I moved to
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