look was merry, he was magnificently self-conscious and débonnaire.

Like shapes from some superbly costumed pageant of High Life in the
Twentieth Century this trio drifted, rather than merely walked like
mortals, across the terrasse and into the Café de l'Univers (which
seemed suddenly to shrink in proportion as if reminded of its
comparative insignificance in the Scheme of Things) where an awed staff
of waiters, led by the overpowered propriétaires, monsieur et madame
themselves, welcomed these apparitions from Another and A Better World
with bowings and scrapings and a vast bustle and movement of chairs and
tables; while all Nant, all of it, that is, that was accustomed to
foregather in the café at this the hour of the aperitif, looked on with
awed and envious eyes.

It was all very theatrical and inspiring--to Monsieur Duchemin, too;
who, lost in the shuffle of Nant and content to be so, murmured to
himself that serviceable and comforting word of the time, "Profiteers!"
and contemplated with some satisfaction his personal superiority to
such as these.

But there was more and better to come.

There remained in the car a mere average man, undistinguished but by a
lack of especial distinction, sober of habit, economical of gesture,
dressed in a simple lounge suit such as anybody might wear, beneath a
rough and ready-made motorcoat. When the car stopped he had stood up in
his place beside the chauffeur as if meaning to get out, but rather
remained motionless, resting a hand on the windshield and thoughtfully
gazing northwards along the road that, skirting the grounds of the
Château de Montalais, disappeared from view round the sleek shoulder of