“Before you go? You are leaving us, Mademoiselle?”
She laughed at his look of dismay. “I can’t stay idling here for ever.”
“But you have been here no time at all,” said he. “Just a little bird that comes and perches on this balustrade, looks this side and that side out of its bright eyes and then flies away.”
“Oui, c’est comme ça,” said Corinna.
“Voilà!” He sighed and turned to throw his broad-brimmed hat on a neighbouring table. “That’s the worst of our infamous trade of hotel keeping. You meet sincere and candid souls whose friendship you crave, but before you have time to win it, away they go like the little bird, for ever and ever out of your life.”
“But you have won my friendship, Monsieur Bigourdin,” said Corinna, with rising colour.
“You are very gracious, Mademoiselle Corinne. But why take it from me as soon as it is given?”
“I don’t,” she retorted. “I shall always remember you and your kindness.”
“Aïe, aïe! You know our saying: Tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse. It is the way of the world, the way of humanity. We say that we will remember—but other things come to dim memory, to blunt sentiment—enfin, we forget, not because we want to, but because we must.”
“If we must,” laughed Corinna, “you’ll forget our friendship too. So we’ll be quits.”