Two servants came in. One carried a great silver tray.
"Oh, leave that a bit!" The Tartar, over the back of the sofa, waved the footman off.
They came towards us, and were told: "Put it there on the table." The man beside me made a show of welcoming it. He dropped the illustrated paper on my lap. "Bend down—bend down low," he whispered.
I bent over the swimming page.
"What will you have?" he called out to me, as the footmen were leaving the room.
I tried to answer. No sound.
"Oh, you prefer crême de menthe, do you?" he said quite loud. "Yes, there's crême de menthe." He filled a glass and brought it to me. "Cognac," he whispered. "It will steady you."
I put my shaking lips to the glass. I did not drink.
"Ah, you are afraid," he said. And he looked at me with his unhappy eyes.
My hand was shaking. Some of the stuff spilt out on my new dress.