"But alto nonetheless. I was certain you would sing alto." He sipped
his liqueur again and twirled the glass slowly. "What about opera? I
despise Wagner myself."
"Really?" Gretchen replied, reaching for her coffee. "I can't say I
truly enjoy Wagner's work, the little I have heard. But Verdi--is
luscious."
"Yes, Verdi. I quite agree with your assessment. And Mozart, of
course, is beyond reproach."
"Positively. But I generally prefer the intimacy of lieder myself."
"German?"
She laughed and pointed her fork at him. "Not only German--chansons as
well."
"I'm relieved to hear it." Professor Bridwell then put one hand into
his pocket, and withdrew his silver cigarette case. "Would you mind,
Miss Haviland, if I smoke?"
"Of course not," she replied.
"Some ladies find it offensive," he said, opening the case slowly, "but
I find it the perfect finish to a delightful meal."
"I couldn't agree more." Gretchen pushed away her plate--the gateau
though small, was simply too rich--and sat back upon her chair.
Cigarettes had always appealed to her, and she indulged on occasion
herself--in private. Cigars she could not abide, however, for they
reminded her too much of her father's odious acquaintances--men who
came to play cards each week throughout her childhood. "If I might
ask," she said quietly, folding her hands the table, "how do you feel
about women smoking, Professor?"
He paused, with the open case upon the table before him and looked
steadily into her eyes. "Miss Haviland," he answered, "we are living
in an enlightened age, are we not? Women's suffrage--and frankly, it
will happen soon, I'm sure. University educations--such as your own."
She nodded, but let him continue. He studied the top of the cigarette
case with some care. From the side, a hovering waiter produced a
shallow ashtray of white china and set it near his elbow.
"I have no objection," he continued, "to a woman pursuing whatever
takes her fancy, provided she's reached majority. The same as any
man." He fingered the cigarette case, closing and then opening it
again. "A strong and independent mind is an asset in anyone, male or
female." He looked up hesitantly. "You seem to have such a mind.
You've read Mr. Darwin, I believe--and I suspect other progressive
thinkers as well."
Gretchen smiled at him, but tilted her head with some puzzlement.
"You once called me more evolved," he replied answering her unspoken
question. "That's hardly the sort of phrase an unread woman would use.
I presumed you have read Mr. Darwin, among others." He curled his lips
upon seeing her amusement and continued speaking. "It is the mind, I
believe--and the soul, if one is religiously inclined--that really
distinguishes man from the lesser animals. Female no less than
male--we all possess that most human of traits."
His extensive reply was more favorable and pointed than she would have
thought possible. It pleased her, and confirmed a great deal that she
had sensed about him. "Then you won't mind at all if I join you?"
"By all means," he returned without hesitation, holding the silver case
toward her. She deftly removed a cigarette, and tamping it upon her
fingernail twice, held it out for him to light. She bent back her
wrist and let it dangle between her long fingers while he lit his own
cigarette.
"Now that we've learned all about me," she said, blowing a thin stream
of smoke away, "perhaps you'll tell me about yourself, Professor."
"Please," he said, setting the ashtray in the middle of the table, "do
call me Antoine. We needn't be so formal, I think."