All, Maurice assures me, ready for anything, and highly attractive. It
will do me a great deal of good, he protests. We shall see.
Night. They came, with Maurice and Alwood Chester, of the American Red
Cross. They gave little shrill screams of admiration for the room.
"Quel endroit delicieux!--What boiserie! English?--Yes, of course,
English dix-septième, one could see--What silver!--and cleaned--And
everything of a chic!--And the hermit so séduisant with his air
maussade!--Hein."
"Yes, the war is much too long--One has given of one's time in the first
year--but now, really, fatigue has overcome one!--and surely after the
spring offensive peace must come soon--and one must live!"
They smoked continuously and devoured the chocolate cake, then they had
liqueurs.
They were so well dressed! and so lissome. They wore elastic corsets, or
none at all. They were well painted; cheeks of the new tint, rather
apricot coloured--and magenta lips. They had arranged themselves when
they had finished munching, bringing out their gold looking-glasses and
their lip grease and their powder--and the divorcee continued to
endeavour to enthrall my senses with her voluptuous half closing of the
eyes, while she reddened her full mouth.
They spoke of the theatre, and the last bons mots about their cherès
amies--the last liasons--the last passions--They spoke of
Gabrielle--her husband was killed last week--'So foolish of him, since
one of Alice's 'friends' among the Ministers could easily have got him a
soft job, and one must always help one's friends! Alice adored
Gabrielle.--But he has left her well provided for--Gabrielle will look
well in her crepe--and there it is, war is war--Que voulez vous?'
"After all, will it be as agreeable if peace does come this summer?--One
will be able to dance openly--that will be nice--but for the rest? It
may be things will be more difficult--and there may be complications.
One has been very well during the war--very well, indeed--N'est ce pas
ma cherie--n'est ce pas?"
Thus they talked.
The widow's lover is married, Maurice tells me, and has been able to
keep his wife safely down at their place in Landes, but if peace should
come he must be en famille, and the wife can very well be disagreeable
about the affair.
The divorcée's three lovers will be in Paris at the same time. The
married one's husband returned for good--"Yes, certainly, peace will
have its drawbacks--The war knows its compensations--But considerable
ones!"
When they had departed, promising to return very soon--to dinner this
time, and see all the "exquisite appartement," Burton came into the
room to take away the tea things. His face was a mask as he swept up the
cigarette ash, which had fallen upon the William and Mary English lac
table, which holds the big lamp, then he carefully carried away the
silver ash trays filled with the ends, and returned with them cleaned.
Then he coughed slightly.