seating himself he would call for wine, speaking
familiarly to the waiter, trying to appear very much
at his ease as though well acquainted with the life of
the cafe.
Mere Melanie would nod and smile at him kindly:
cBon soir, mon enfant. Have you given your order?
That is excellent!5 For she liked his bronzed face and
the poise of his youthful, muscular shoulders; more-
over she-observed the way the wind blew and was
noting the whole affair with deep interest.
But if Beauvais saw him he would tell his companion,
amused at her innocent look of indifference and at
Christophers hot flush as he got to his feet and bowed
rather stiffly to ^Eliana.
Then one evening Beauvais insisted that he join
them: 'It is always bad to drink lonely,5 said Beauvais;
ecome and drink with us. Allons, what will you have,
some cognac? No? Very well, let us see what Mere
Melanie hides away in her cellar!5
His experienced eyes were dwelling on Christophe
with the thoughtful, speculative gaze of the artist.
He was thinking that the young male form at its best
was undoubtedly nature's greatest achievement; small
wonder if ^Eliana were enamoured of those finely
restrained yet masterful lines. He glanced at her,
shrugging indifferent shoulders. Cynical, ailing and
infinitely tired, Beauvais took life these days as he
found it. He accepted JEliana for the thing that she was,
a creature conducive to moments of pleasure; a
creature who could sometimes make him forget the
ugliness that was scarring the world, the infirmities
of his own shattered body. Just this much she meant
and he found it enough; nor did her fidelity greatly
concern him, if he lost her to Christophe it would not
break his heart — she was beautiful, yes, but incredibly
stupid. So now he watched JLliana as she played with
the boy's tormented, resentful manhood, as she smiled
415