Just the mention of a major was enough to quiet my bulldozing friend. He retired to a secluded corner where he would not have to face the officer and I took advantage of the moment to tell the Madame I had to step out for ten or fifteen minutes.
“Is your battling friend staying?” she inquired with a very wise smile.
“Oh—he’ll be all right,” I told her. “And I’ll be right back anyway.” She laughed and I hurried past the major and his mademoiselle and went out for the air.
I thought I walked around for at least a half hour, but when I came back to the house I realized that I hadn’t been gone more than fifteen or twenty minutes. I made as little noise as possible ascending the stairs and when I stopped in front of her door, unmistakable sounds of a struggle and argument came to my ears. It sounded desperate and I was on the point of knocking, when I heard the Madame suddenly laugh. Then she said, “All right, you wild man—but let’s have a little champagne first to help matters along.”
Well, if that’s the way she felt about it, it was none of my business, so I removed myself to the air again. I don’t know why, but I actually felt disappointed. I never really believed the Madame would give in like that to just any man who fought hard enough to overpower her. I was disgusted with her, I guess.
Fifteen minutes later I returned again—and all was so very quiet that I concluded my presence would be rather superfluous. So out to the air again.
When I returned the next time, about twenty minutes later, I walked boldly up to the door and knocked. The Madame herself let me in. She smiled queerly at me, and I could not meet her eyes. I glanced around the room and spotted Ben stretched out on the divan, apparently sleeping the sleep of the righteous.... I couldn’t figure it out.
When she noted my bewilderment, she laughed lightly and said, “Your friend, the giant, is like all giants, little one: he met his Jack.”
“Meaning?”
“He can’t stand his liquor.”