On the brink of turning away and slamming the door on my way out I have a last try: I ask him:
“But what else can I say to convince you? I…
He interrupts me by putting his paw over my mouth, an unexpected move which incenses me. He says in a whisper, his black eyes like gimlets:
“Why didn’t thy Gérard come with thee last night, eh? Tell me that!”
“You kicked him out, remember?” I reply, “You’d shamed him, you have!”
I am saved! Saved by these few words! Why didn’t I think of it before? His suspicions take wing like butterflies from their chrysalis, the atmosphere in the room lightens, the old bear gives ground. He deigns to answer: “He deserved it… he’s a fanatic, yon colonel, he gets lads killed the same age as mine…You don’t believe me? Well, go and ask him about his bolshie views!”
