She read it, and
slipped it into her purse.
Maurice thought: "Who wouldn't join the army with such
recruiting officers?"
While the pantomime took place, a man pushed by Maurice's chair
and crossed over to the table recently occupied by him. He sat
down, lit a short pipe, rested his feet on the lowest rung of
the ladder-like railing, and contemplated the western hills,
which by now were enveloped in moon mists. Neither Maurice nor
his mysterious vis-a-vis remarked him. Indeed, his broad back
afforded but small attraction. And if he puffed his pipe
fiercely, nobody cared, since the breeze carried the smoke
waterward.
After putting the card into her purse, Mademoiselle of the
Veil's gaze once more wandered toward the entrance, and this
time it grew fixed. Maurice naturally followed it, and he saw a
tall soldier in fatigue dress elbowing his way through the crush.
Many moved aside for him; those in uniform saluted.
"Monsieur," came from behind the veil, "you may go now. I
dismiss you. If I have need of you I promise to send for you."
He stood up. "I thank you for the entertainment and the promise
you extend.
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