Evangeline's as a protest. It is very uncomfortable, I must say. But I wasn't going to let those girls get away with that.'
'But Renaud still is a collaborator.'
'No more than a lot of other people, and certainly no more than those lovelies.'
'It's probably my American morality, as you say. I cannot seem to forget that stinking war.'
'And Renaud couldn't have done much harm, stuck off there in Sweden, not nearly as much as that little ordure Michel Varennes, who is walking around quite happy and free as air.'
'Yes, I know,' Anne said wearily. 'But it doesn't mean you have to be blood brothers with Michel.'
'And Evangeline of course never collaborated with anybody. All she seems to have done is make fun of the Germans, because she found them grotesque. I don't know why Evangeline should be insulted by those dear old pals of hers, who collaborated as hard as they could until they saw that the Germans were losing, and then maintained a discreet silence until liberated. Since when they talk as if they were all Joan of Arc, nipped from the stake at the last moment.'
'Have another gaseous.'
'I hated this war,' Lady Elizabeth said with passion. 'I hated every minute of it. I'm not going to let it destroy everything.'
'It's done pretty well, if you ask me.'
'I'm not going to let it destroy the thing of being friends along with every other bloody thing.'
Anne drank some more of the sickening cherry mixture, and gave Elizabeth Beech time to hide inside herself again. Then she said, 'I used to know Pierre Lanier.'
'Did you?'
'Yes. He was by way of being a beau of mine.'
'He was shot a few weeks ago, wasn't he?'
'Yes. Do you think I should have rallied round?'
'It's different, Anne. He worked for the Germans, he excused the concentration camps. Evangeline didn't understand anything about them.'
'And Renaud?'
'How do I know about Renaud? I'm talking about Evangeline. She never knows anything except loving Renaud. She doesn't concentrate on anything else. She may be a fool but she was never wicked. I must go now. She'll be home and all pulled together.'
'I'll come and see her late this afternoon.'
'She hasn't given a sign of how she feels about Renaud, but she doesn't sleep and sometimes she forgets to act and you can see in her eyes that she's going mad. You know, that's another thing about Evangeline, she has almost the best manners there are.'
Anne Marsh had paid for the blood-red drinks and they stood in the street, with the driven anxious people breaking around them like water breaking against a bridge, and Anne said, 'I wish I hadn't come.'
'So do I. But there it is.'
'Will I see you again?'
'You will find me any morning, window-shopping in these streets. I don't seem to have much money any more. Do you?'
'No. Not much.'
'Ah well,' said Lady Elizabeth, 'we've still got our youth and beauty.'
They looked at each other and laughed. Then Elizabeth Beech started walking fast towards the river and the grey cold apartment and Anne wandered up towards the Opéra. There was an hour to lose before lunch. She might do down to Notre Dame and look at the Seine and the two great square towers holding back the sky. She might do anything, if there was anything she wanted to do. And then she would have lunch with a British major, and cocktails with an American colonel, and dinner with another captain who happened to be French. Giddy life, she thought, gay mad Paree.
No one answered the doorbell though the concierge had said that Madame Vilray was home. Anne Marsh turned the unshined brass door-knob, for no reason, and found it opened and thought, Evangeline is too careless. She would have to remind Evangeline that, since one no longer had servants, one was supposed to lock one's own door. She walked into the bedroom and Evangeline was there, sitting on a straight chair, before the small ineffectual electric heater. Her face looked like the face of the blind, being empty of expression, and with a terrible lineless death
'But Renaud still is a collaborator.'
'No more than a lot of other people, and certainly no more than those lovelies.'
'It's probably my American morality, as you say. I cannot seem to forget that stinking war.'
'And Renaud couldn't have done much harm, stuck off there in Sweden, not nearly as much as that little ordure Michel Varennes, who is walking around quite happy and free as air.'
'Yes, I know,' Anne said wearily. 'But it doesn't mean you have to be blood brothers with Michel.'
'And Evangeline of course never collaborated with anybody. All she seems to have done is make fun of the Germans, because she found them grotesque. I don't know why Evangeline should be insulted by those dear old pals of hers, who collaborated as hard as they could until they saw that the Germans were losing, and then maintained a discreet silence until liberated. Since when they talk as if they were all Joan of Arc, nipped from the stake at the last moment.'
'Have another gaseous.'
'I hated this war,' Lady Elizabeth said with passion. 'I hated every minute of it. I'm not going to let it destroy everything.'
'It's done pretty well, if you ask me.'
'I'm not going to let it destroy the thing of being friends along with every other bloody thing.'
Anne drank some more of the sickening cherry mixture, and gave Elizabeth Beech time to hide inside herself again. Then she said, 'I used to know Pierre Lanier.'
'Did you?'
'Yes. He was by way of being a beau of mine.'
'He was shot a few weeks ago, wasn't he?'
'Yes. Do you think I should have rallied round?'
'It's different, Anne. He worked for the Germans, he excused the concentration camps. Evangeline didn't understand anything about them.'
'And Renaud?'
'How do I know about Renaud? I'm talking about Evangeline. She never knows anything except loving Renaud. She doesn't concentrate on anything else. She may be a fool but she was never wicked. I must go now. She'll be home and all pulled together.'
'I'll come and see her late this afternoon.'
'She hasn't given a sign of how she feels about Renaud, but she doesn't sleep and sometimes she forgets to act and you can see in her eyes that she's going mad. You know, that's another thing about Evangeline, she has almost the best manners there are.'
Anne Marsh had paid for the blood-red drinks and they stood in the street, with the driven anxious people breaking around them like water breaking against a bridge, and Anne said, 'I wish I hadn't come.'
'So do I. But there it is.'
'Will I see you again?'
'You will find me any morning, window-shopping in these streets. I don't seem to have much money any more. Do you?'
'No. Not much.'
'Ah well,' said Lady Elizabeth, 'we've still got our youth and beauty.'
They looked at each other and laughed. Then Elizabeth Beech started walking fast towards the river and the grey cold apartment and Anne wandered up towards the Opéra. There was an hour to lose before lunch. She might do down to Notre Dame and look at the Seine and the two great square towers holding back the sky. She might do anything, if there was anything she wanted to do. And then she would have lunch with a British major, and cocktails with an American colonel, and dinner with another captain who happened to be French. Giddy life, she thought, gay mad Paree.
No one answered the doorbell though the concierge had said that Madame Vilray was home. Anne Marsh turned the unshined brass door-knob, for no reason, and found it opened and thought, Evangeline is too careless. She would have to remind Evangeline that, since one no longer had servants, one was supposed to lock one's own door. She walked into the bedroom and Evangeline was there, sitting on a straight chair, before the small ineffectual electric heater. Her face looked like the face of the blind, being empty of expression, and with a terrible lineless death
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