They smiled at each other.
Olivier went on:
"I was an ass last night. I was afraid I might have offended you. My shyness is absolutely a disease: I can't get a word out."
"I shouldn't worry about that. There are plenty of talkers in your country: one is only too glad to meet a man who is silent occasionally, even though it be only from shyness and in spite of himself."
Christophe laughed and chuckled over his own gibe.
"Then you have come to see me because I can be silent?"
"Yes. For your silence, the sort of silence that is yours. There are all sorts: and I like yours, and that's all there is to say."
"But how could you sympathize with me? You hardly saw me."
"That's my affair. It doesn't take me long to make up my mind. When I see a face that I like in the crowd, I know what to do: I go after it; I simply have to know the owner of it."
"And don't you ever make mistakes when you go after them?"