He asked the head waiter whether he knew the lady and gentleman.
“I know them in a kind of way,” replied the waiter. “They often come here, but I don’t know their names. We see so many people! On Saturday the place was crowded. There were covers all over the grass and under the trees, as far as the hedge that encloses the lawn.”
“Really?” said Monsieur Bergeret. “There were covers under all those trees?”
“Yes, and on the terrace as well, and in the kiosk.”
Busily cracking almonds, Monsieur Mazure had not noticed the muslin dress. He inquired which lady they were speaking of. Monsieur Bergeret, however, decided to keep Madame de Gromance’s secret, and made no reply.
Night had fallen. Here and there a lamp whose radiance was softened by a shade of white or pink paper marked the position of a table and revealed shapes surrounded by faint haloes of light. Beneath one of these discreet lights the little white plume surmounting a straw hat was drawing closer and closer to the gleaming cranium of an elderly man. At the next table were two youthful faces, more unsubstantial than the moths that fluttered around them. Not in vain was the white round shape of the moon ascending the paling sky.
“I trust you are satisfied, gentlemen,” said the head waiter.
And without waiting for a reply he directed his vigilant steps elsewhere.
“Look at those people dining in the kindly darkness,” said Monsieur Bergeret with a smile. “Those little white plumes, and right at the back, under that great tree, those roses on a Louis Quatorze straw hat. They are eating, drinking and making love, and to this man they are nothing but covers! They have instincts and desires, even thoughts perhaps, and they are covers! What strength of mind and of language! This knight of the appetite is a great man.”
“We have had a very pleasant dinner,” said Monsieur Mazure, rising. “This restaurant is frequented by the very smartest people.”