Within, a table was laid for three--three chairs, three plates, three
covers. He saw her looking at this.

"We dine three to-night. You must condescend to dine with a sergeant.
My old friend--Where is Alfred?"

"I am here."

"My old friend--four years before the war. The oldest friend I have.
He has heard--"

("----Of Violette. He has heard of Violette! He is Violette's friend;
he is against me!")

"I am so glad," she said aloud, in a small voice, and put out her hand.
She did not like him, she had an instant dread of him, and thought he
beheld it too.

"I did not even know he was here," said Julien, more gay than ever. "But
he is the sergeant of the garage, and I find him again.

"What a help you'll be, to say the least of it! You will drive her to
the river, you will fetch her from the river! I myself cannot drive, I
am not allowed."

The impassive man thus addressed looked neither gay nor sad. His little
eyes wandered to Fanny with a faint critical indifference. ("Julien has
made a mistake, a mistake! He is an enemy!") She could not clearly
decide how much she should allow her evening to be shadowed by this man,