know, is going to get up before I trouble myself to
remove him?'
No one trembled, since no one had understood
a word, his furious face merely causing much laughter;
but the little violinist was now really afraid, and this
not without reason perhaps, knowing Ravous. Sidling
across to Mere Melanie: 'Coax him, ma cherie —
try coaxing/ he whispered.
So Mere Melanie patted the monster's cheek, then
she ruffled his hair: 'Sois gentil,' she entreated,
'do not threaten your poor little Mere Melanie who
has always felt a tenderness for her big Ravous. Is
it kind to bully your Mere Melanie who depends upon
clients to gain her a living? Come and kiss your little
Mere Melanie. . . .'
'Ah, that no!' growled Ravous, looking suddenly
scared.
'Tafort!' hiccoughed his comrade, 'Go and kiss the
old whore!'
Ravous scowled, then he gulped hard, closing his
eyes: 'Bono Maire de Dieu . . . ' he groaned as he
kissed her.
The room rang with applause. To Mere Melanie's
relief, her clients appeared amused and delighted.
They were artists of course, and no man in Saint Loup
was more picturesque in appearance than Ravous
with his faded check shirt, his red neckerchief, his
bare tattooed arms, and his little gold ear-rings; it
was therefore advisable to welcome him, perhaps. . . .
'Go and bring in a table from the kitchen this instant,
and make haste about it!' she bawled to the waiter.
So Ravous was placed at the end of the cafe and
was given a generous portion of brandy as was also
his comrade, by now half asleep, but continually
being roused up by Ravous who wished to assure him
that he was not drunk, and that if he were drunk he
was drunk with honour.
R 257