"Well, on my word--yes. By Jove! I congratulate you; you have indeed
changed in the last six months!"
He flushed scarlet, and said, with an embarrassed laugh:
"One can but do one's best."
I looked at him so obstinately that he evidently felt uncomfortable, so
I went on:
"So--now--you are--completely cured?"
He stammered, hastily:
"Yes, perfectly, thank you." Then changing his tone, "How lucky that I
should have come across you, old fellow. I hope we shall often meet
now."
But I would not give up my idea; I wanted to know how matters really
stood, so I asked:
"Don't you remember what you told me six months ago? I
suppose--I--eh--suppose you resist now?"
"Please don't talk any more about it," he replied, uneasily; "forget
that I mentioned it to you; leave me alone. But, you know, I have no
intention of letting you go; you must come and dine at my house."
A sudden fancy took me to see for myself how matters stood, so that I
might understand all about it, and I accepted.
His wife received me in a most charming manner, and she was, as a matter
of fact, a most attractive woman. Her long hands, her neck and cheeks
were beautifully white and delicate, and marked her breeding, and her
walk was undulating and delightful.
René gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead and said:
"Has not Lucien come yet?"
"Not yet," she replied, in a clear, soft voice; "you know he is almost
always rather late."
At that moment the bell rang, and a tall man was shown in. He was dark,
with a thick beard, and looked like a modern Hercules. We were
introduced to each other; his name was Lucien Delabarre.
René and he shook hands in a most friendly manner, and then we went to
dinner.
It was a most enjoyable meal, without the least constraint. My old
friend spoke with me constantly, in the old familiar cordial manner,
just as he used to do. It was: "You know, old fellow!"--"I say, old
fellow!"--"Just listen a moment, old fellow!" Suddenly he exclaimed:
"You don't know how glad I am to see you again; it takes me back to old
times."
I looked at his wife and the other man. Their attitude was perfectly
correct, though I fancied once or twice that they exchanged a rapid and
furtive look.
As soon as dinner was over René turned to his wife, and said:
"My dear, I have just met Pierre again, and I am going to carry him off
for a walk and a chat along the boulevards to remind us of old times. I
am leaving you in very good company."
The young woman smiled, and said to me, as she shook hands with me:
"Don't keep him too long."
As we went along, arm-in-arm, I could not help saying to him, for I was
determined to know how matters stood:
"I say, what has happened? Do tell me!"
He, however, interrupted me roughly, and answered like a man who has
been disturbed without any reason.
"Just look here, old fellow leave one alone with your questions."
Then he added, half aloud, as if talking to himself:
"After all, it would have been too stupid to have let oneself go to pot
like that."
I did not press him. We walked on quickly and began to talk. All of a
sudden he whispered in my ear:
"I say, suppose we go and have a bottle of 'fizz' with some girls! Eh?"