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Page 43
'You're preaching pure Paganism.'
'Oh, I'm not denying I'm a Pagan--in my amateurish way. Let me give
you some asparagus. Do you think a man can be saved who smokes
cigarettes between the courses?'
'Saved?' questioned Andr�. 'What have cigarettes to do with a man's
salvation?'
'It's a habit I learned in Russia. I feared it might relate itself in
some way to the Schism.' And he lit a cigarette. 'I'm always a rigid
Catholic when I'm in France.'
'And when you're in England?'
'Oh, one goes in for local colour, for picturesqueness, don't you
know. The Church of England's charmingly overgrown with ivy. And
besides, they're going to disestablish it. One must make the most of
it while it lasts. Tell me--why can you never get decent _brioches_
except in Catholic countries?'
'Is that a fact?'
'I swear it.'
'It's very singular,' said Andr�.
'It's only one of the many odd things a fellow learns from
travel.--Hush! Wait a moment.'
He rose hastily, and made a dash with his hand at the tail of a
lizard, that was hanging temptingly out from a bunch of wistaria
leaves. But the lizard was too quick for him. With a whisk, it had
disappeared. He sank back into his chair, sighing. 'It's always like
that. They'll never keep still long enough to let me catch them.
What's the use of a university education and a cosmopolitan culture,
if you can't catch lizards? Do you think they have eyes in the backs
of their heads?'
Andr� stared.
'Oh, I see. You think I'm frivolous,' Paul said plaintively. 'But you
ought to have seen me an hour or two ago.'
Andr�'s eyes asked, 'Why?'
'Oh, I was plunged in all the most appropriate emotions--shedding
floods of tears over my lost childhood and my misspent youth. Don't
you like to have a good cry now and then? Oh, I don't mean literal
tears, of course; only spiritual ones. For the letter killeth, but the
spirit giveth life. I walked over to Granjolaye.'
Andr� looked surprise. 'To Granjolaye? Have you--were you--'
He hesitated, but Paul understood. 'Have you heard from her? Were you
invited?' 'Oh, dear, no,' he answered. 'No such luck. Not to the
Ch�teau, only to the gates--the East Gate.' (The principal entrance to
the home park of Granjolaye is the South Gate, which opens upon the
Route D�partementale.) 'I stood respectfully outside, and looked
through the grating of the grille. I walked through the forest, by the
Sentier des Contrebandiers.'
'Ah,' said Andr�.
'And on my way what do you suppose I met?'
'A--a viper,' responded Andr�. 'The hot weather is bringing them out.
I killed two in my garden yesterday.'
'Oh, you cruel thing! What did you want to kill the poor young
creatures for? And then to boast of it!--But no, not a viper. A lady.'
'A lady?'
'Yes--a real lady; she wore gloves. She was riding. I hope you won't
think I'm asking impertinent questions, but I wonder if you can tell
me who she is.'
'A lady riding in the Sentier des Contrebandiers?' Andr� repeated
incredulously.
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