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“They’ve been watching for weeks. They see two lovers.”
“Lovers? No. We
’re not!”
“Yes! Come back to my room or let me come to yours!”
“That would spoil it! This is perfect now.”
“Being with you would be perfect.”
“Sit! Look at all the people we make happy. Consider Monsieur Sault, whose future we assure. Think: before you arrived last month, what were your plans for next year? Drink the wine. They say it’s excellent.”
“Because they say it’s excellent?”
“Careful. The people outside might read lips and leave. Give me your hand. Gently! Eat. Smile. Nod your head. There. Better?”
“I love you.”
“Stop or I’ll go!”
“Where?”
“Somewhere!” She smiled her false smile for the people beyond the window. “Where working conditions are better.”
“Am I a bad working condition?”
“You endanger us. See, Monsieur Sault glares! Be still. Pour the wine. Yes?”
“Yes,” he said at last.
And so it went for another week until he burst out and said, “Marry me!”
She snatched her hand from his. “No!” Then, because a couple had paused at their window, she laughed.
“Don’t you love me a little bit?” he pleaded.
“Why should I? There were no promises.”
“Marry me!”
“Monsieur Sault!” she cried. “The check!”
“But there has never been a check!”
“Tonight,” she said, “there is.”
The next night she vanished.
“You,” cried Monsieur Sault. “You fiend! Look what you’ve done!”
Inside the window there was no beautiful young woman: the last night of spring, the first night of summer.
“My business is ruined!” cried the old man. “Why couldn’t you have shut your mouth and eaten your pâté or drunk a second bottle and stuck the cork in your teeth?”
“I told the truth as I felt it. She’ll come back!”
“So? Read this!”
