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It was easily seen Tanrade was envious of this charity from one shapely little hand. What a contrast are these dinners in the lost village to some I have known elsewhere! What refreshing vivacity! How genuine and merry they are from the arrival of the first guest to the going of the last!
An hour later Alice de Bréville was speeding back to her château; Blondel and his mare were also clattering homeward, for he had still an article to finish before daylight. I had just bid the marquis and the marquise good night when Tanrade, who was about to follow, suddenly turned and called me aside in the shadow of the gateway. What he said to me made my heart leap.
"Yes," he returned with a nod. "She is a good child she deserves to be happy." Then he stopped and inquired seriously "What will you do without her?" "One must not be selfish," I replied with a helpless shrug. "Suzette has earned it so has Tanrade. It was his unfinished opera that was in the way: Alice was clever."
"When the wick burns like that ah, ça!" And with a cheery bonsoir she closed the door behind her. I had just swallowed my coffee when the siren of the Baron's automobile emitted a high, devilish wail, and subsided into a low moan outside my wall. The next instant the gate of the court flew open, and I rushed out, to greet, to my surprise, Tanrade in his shooting-togs, and could it be true?
I saw her strong little body tremble: "No, monsieur," she breathed, and the tears fell afresh. "Tell me the truth, Suzette." "I have told monsieur the the truth," she stammered bravely with a fresh effort to strangle her sobs. "You do not love Monsieur Tanrade, my child?" "No, monsieur I I was a little fool to have cried. It was stronger than I the news.
Did you not send me a dozen bottles this morning, Monsieur Tanrade? Come, confess!" He turned and shrugged his shoulders. "Impossible! I cannot remember. I am so absent-minded, madame," and he bent and kissed her hand. "Where's Blondel?" cried Clamard, as he extracted a thin cigarette-case from his waistcoat. "He'll be here presently," I explained.
Though the little boy was barely seven he was a sturdy little chap with fair curly hair, blue eyes, and the quick gestures of his father. He had a way of throwing out his chest when he was pleased, and gesticulating with open arms and closed fists when excited, which is peculiar to the race of fishermen. The only time when he was perfectly still was when Tanrade worked in silence.
Needless to say, nothing ever happened to anything. He could make more noise and do less harm than any one I ever knew. Then he would sing us both into good humour until Suzette's peasant cheeks shone like ripe apples. "It is not the same without Monsieur Tanrade," Suzette sighed to-day as she brought my luncheon to my easel in a shady corner of my wild garden a corner all cool roses and shadow.
And we sat together, the good old general and I, and in front of us were Alice's old friend Germaine, chic and pretty in her sables, and Blondel, who had left his unfinished editorial and driven hard to be present, and beside him in the worn pew sat the Marquis and Marquise de Clamard, and the rest of the worn pews were filled with fisherfolk and Marianne sat on my left, and old Père Varnet with Suzette beyond him and every one's eyes were upon Alice and Tanrade, for they were good to look upon.
And always the "good kind wine," until the famous cheese that Tanrade had waked up Pont du Sable in procuring was passed quickly and went out to the pantry, never to return. Ah, yes! And the warm champagne without which no French breakfast is complete. Over the coffee and liqueurs, the talk ran naturally to gallantry. "Ah, les femmes! The memories," as the Baron had said.
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