Arlette sighed with relief and waggled her head.
“But the price, mademoiselle—I ask you to regard the price. One is frightened. It is so. For this so small piece of meat! But messieurs demand the meat. They spend much money, and I am alarmed. I shall be blamed. It is I who make the purchases.... Also the cheese ... and butter. Mon Dieu! The cost! It is frightful! It is because these American soldiers arrive in France with great wealth in their pockets and spend with the so great freedom that prices rise.... Oh yes. They do not care. They have no regard for money—and in consequence the poor must pay. Can nothing be done to prevent these Americans from making the prices to rise?”
“C’est la guerre,” said Madeleine.
“It is the Americans,” said Arlette, dogmatically. “But one must admit they are generous and of a kindness. I regard messieurs highly. Oui. Ils sont très-gentils.”
“Arlette likes you much,” said Andree. “I theenk she fall in love weeth you, and I am jealous—oh, so jealous. You shall send her away. I will not have her. She is bad—bad. She take you away from me.” And then she laughed low, with a charm that found its way to Kendall’s heart. She was so cunning, so full of little humors and tricks of manner, of moods and delightful graces—at one moment grave and wise, at the next playful and gay. One instant she was a woman made wise by sorrow, the next moment she was a child, untouched by anything but joy.... She was wonderful, thought Kendall, there was no one in the world to compare with her....
“We’re going to the Casino de Paris to-night. Coming along?” asked Bert.
Kendall turned to Andree. “Shall we?”
“No. We shall stay here.” She pointed downward at the floor with a gesture that was peculiarly her own. “I have not seen you for long.... We shall talk of many theengs.”
“Keep your dictionary handy, Ken,” jeered Bert. “There are lots of useful words in it.... Comme ça: You take the lady’s hand. ‘Mademoiselle, vous êtes—’ Quick the dictionary! Find the first word that fits.... Here it is—look! ‘Charmante.’ Fine! Thus we have a compliment with only a slight interruption. A compliment doesn’t get cold like a dish of soup. It is still good even if we have to look in the dictionary twice. In the course of an evening we can get through a dozen sentences.... You shall talk of many theengs,” he finished, mimicking Andree.
“Monsieur Bert—he does not need to speak,” laughed Madeleine. “He is ver’ fonny. Écoutez! He says, ‘Je no’ désirez de la potage.’ Oui. Always. One understands what he is about, but it is awful. But yes.... I cannot teach him. No. Past or present, number, person, it is all one for him. He jus’ make words and expects one to understand.... But when he does not speak at all—then he does much better.”