must dance cheek by jowl, and in other ways demon-
strate their affection.

'As tu vu les fesses de ma belle Louise?5 played the
little violinist on his teasing fiddle.

Mere Melanie wiped her beetle brows; then she
drained the bottles into her glass, yawned, drank up
the dregs, lit a cigarette, yawned again, and finally
glanced at her watch — somewhere in the distance a
bell was ringing. Mere Melanie made the sign of the
cross very largely upon her ample bosom.

Madame Roustan got up: 'I must go. . .' she
said weakly, for by now she was feeling both sick and
giddy. But she managed to stumble down the long
room and out into the disconcerting sunshine.

It was lucky indeed that the spiteful Eusebe had
not happened to wander along to la Tarasque; that
Jouse hardly ever went there these days; and that
Goundran was still bent on saving his money. It was
also lucky that Mere Melanie made a rule of never
discussing her clients; but luckier still was the fact
that Madame Roustan lived only three doors away
from the Cafe.

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