with the edge of the table upon which he must lean
while he grabbed for his cane. The leg that was badly
repaired hung crooked, nor could he put that heel to
the ground. The surgeon had been nervous for Beau-
vais had screamed, only once but that once had been
more than enough for the surgeon —they had run
out of anaesthetics.
Limping grotesquely but quite unperturbed he
made his way through the dancers to Christopher
'Pardon, Monsieur, my name is Jacques Beauvais.
Am I not addressing Monsieur Benedit? Surely I
saw you some years ago when your father erected a
fence round my land? But permit me to say that you
have grown somewhat*5 And he laughed his pleasant
and youthful laugh. 'Monsieur, you make me feel
like a pigmy.5
Christophe had stood up and was offering him a
chair which Beauvais accepted; then he ordered more
brandy. Four brandies he ordered as a matter of
course: "Unless Mademoiselle would prefer something
else?5
'Mais non, this will do, I thank you,* she smiled,
looking into his bloodshot amorous eyes.
'Then permit me to drink to our meeting,5 he
answered.
After this he must try to put the youths at their
ease by talking to them about local matters. He had
heard that that fellow Kahn had failed; what a villain
with his Galeries of abortions! So now he was working
for the Benedits; amazing that he could work with
those hands —every finger had bulged like a fat
white sausage: 'Your father has had a stroke? What
a disaster! I remember him so clearly with his bright,
curly beard. I used to think that he looked like Saint
Paul—or was it someone else who had such a beard?
In any case he looked like an apostle. And your
mother, is she well in spite of her troubles? That is
403