The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway [4]
"Well," I said, "are you going to buy me a dinner?"
She grinned and I saw why she made a point of not laughing. With her mouth closed she was a rather pretty girl. I paid for the saucers and we walked out to the street. I hailed a horse-cab and the driver pulled up at the curb. Settled back in the slow, smoothly rolling fiacre we moved up the Avenue de l'Opéra, passed the locked doors of the shops, their windows lighted, the Avenue broad and shiny and almost deserted. The cab passed the New York Herald bureau with the window full of clocks.
"What are all the clocks for?" she asked.
"They show the hour all over America."
"Don't kid me."
We turned off the Avenue up the Rue des Pyramides, through the traffic of the Rue de Rivoli, and through a dark gate into the Tuileries. She cuddled against me and I put my arm around her. She looked up to be kissed. She touched me with one hand and I put her hand away.
"Never mind."
"What's the matter? You sick?"
"Yes."
"Everybody's sick. I'm sick, too."
We came out of the Tuileries into the light and crossed the Seine and then turned up the Rue des Saints Pères.
"You oughtn't to drink pernod if you're sick."
"You neither."
"It doesn't make any difference with me. It doesn't make any difference with a woman."
"What are you called?"
"Georgette. How are you called?"
"Jacob."
"That's a Flemish name."
"American too."
"You're not Flamand?"
"No, American."
"Good, I detest Flamands."
By this time we were at the restaurant. I called to the cocher to stop. We got out and Georgette did not like the looks of the place. "This is no great thing of a restaurant."
"No," I said. "Maybe you would rather go to Foyot's. Why don't you keep the cab and go on?"
I had picked her up because of a vague sentimental idea that it would be nice to eat with some one. It was a long time since I had dined with a poule, and I had forgotten how dull it could be. We went into the restaurant, passed Madame Lavigne at the desk and into a little room. Georgette cheered up a little under the food.
"It isn't bad here," she said. "It isn't chic, but the food is all right."
"Better than you eat in Liege."
"Brussels, you mean."
We had another bottle of wine and Georgette made a joke. She smiled and showed all her bad teeth, and we touched glasses.
"You're not a bad type," she said. "It's a shame you're sick. We get on well. What's the matter with you, anyway?"
"I got hurt in the war," I said.
"Oh, that dirty war."
We would probably have gone on and discussed the war and agreed that it was in reality a calamity for civilization, and perhaps would have been better avoided. I was bored enough. Just then from the other room some one called: "Barnes! I say, Barnes! Jacob Barnes!
"It's a friend calling me," I explained, and went out.
There was Braddocks at a big table with a party: Cohn, Frances Clyne, Mrs. Braddocks, several people I did not know.
"You're coming to the dance, aren't you?" Braddocks asked.
"What dance?"
"Why, the dancings. Don't you know we've revived them?" Mrs. Braddocks put in.
"You must come, Jake. We're all going," Frances said from the end of the table. She was tall and had a smile.
"Of course, he's coming," Braddocks said. "Come in and have coffee with us, Barnes."
"Right."
"And bring your friend," said Mrs. Braddocks laughing. She was a Canadian and had all their easy social graces.
"Thanks, we'll be in," I said. I went back to the small room.
"Who are your friends?" Georgette asked.
"Writers and artists."
"There are lots of those on this side of the river."
"Too many."
"I think so. Still, some of them make money."
"Oh, yes."
We finished the meal and the wine. "Come on," I said. "We're going to have coffee with the others."
Georgette opened her bag, made a few passes at her face as she looked in the little mirror, re-defined her lips with the lip-stick, and straightened her hat.
"Good," she said.
We went into the room full of people and Braddocks and the men at his table stood up.
"I wish to present my fiancée, Mademoiselle Georgette Leblanc," I said. Georgette smiled that wonderful smile, and we shook hands all round.