"Hungry, probably. Bonjour, Brigitte. Yes, I am hungry. I have been walking for hours, and I am perished with hunger."
"Will you join us? Madame Malaumain is getting us some coffee——"
Théo obviously expected a refusal to this invitation, but Joyselle accepted it without hesitation, and drawing up a chair, sat down.
"Where have you two been?" he asked.
While Théo gave him a description of their walk, Brigit watched the violinist.
He had pushed back his hat and from under it his hair hung in curly disorder over his brow. He was very pale and his eyes were circled by violet rings. He looked very ill indeed, but Brigit knew that it was no physical pain that was tormenting him.
"Very pleasant," he murmured to his son with a visible effort, "delightful." Madame Malaumain arriving with a tablecloth announced the cheerful fact that the water was boiling, recognised him with delight, and told him in all innocence that he as well as she had grown no younger since their last meeting.
"M. Malaumain will be delighted to see you," she added; "it is not often that he meets one as cultivated as himself."
Joyselle bowed gravely. "Can you give me some coffee, too, Madame Malaumain?" he asked. "I am very—hungry."
But when the coffee and eggs arrived, he did not eat; instead, he sat moodily playing with his spoon and staring at the tablecloth.