When the phone jangled, he jerked about in his chair.
"When our phone rings it bothers me too," Jeannette said.
Mme. Ronde answered the ring, saying it was Pierre Valeriaud.
"Pierre wanted to apologize for being intoxicated when he was here--he's a pretty nice man." As she lifted her cup, her facial expression became set, almost pained, as if this was something medicinal she was drinking.
In her ladderback chair she seemed to overfill it: for a while she had nothing to say: drinking her tea, biting sandwiches, she might have been a peasant overwhelmed by work or tragedy. When Claude entered and announced three priests, Mme. Ronde was displeased:
"They're men who help with refugees!" she exclaimed, and stalked off. "Have them sit in the dining room ... I have to go upstairs for a list."
While she was gone, Orville found Claude and asked him about the bikes: were they stored in the barn, in the house? Have they been used a lot?
"We've been using them ... there's not always gasoline ... I'll get the key. They're in the linen room. The tires are new. Lena has used one bike for a while. I guess a little oil might help--if we can find any oil."
Key in hand, Claude led Jean and Orville to a small windowless room, behind the kitchen; as Bichain unlocked the door, Orville felt her face against his; his mouth sought hers. The door unlocked with a pop, letting out the smell of soap and fabric.
"We kept our bikes in our barn," Jean said, following Orville inside.