Page 388 - tender-is-the-night

her something extra!’
‘If I could get to that phone!’ As this seemed imprac-
ticable, Dick capitulated. For fifty francs, increased to a
hundred as he succumbed to the idea of getting her out hast-
ily, Augustine yielded her fortress, covering the retreat with
stormy grenades of ‘Salaud!’ She would leave only when her
nephew could come for her baggage. Waiting cautiously in
the neighborhood of the kitchen Dick heard a cork pop, but
he yielded the point. There was no further trouble—when
the nephew arrived, all apologetic, Augustine bade Dick a
cheerful, convivial good-by and called up ‘All revoir, Ma-
dame! Bonne chance!’ to Nicole’s window.
The Divers went to Nice and dined on a bouillabaisse,
which is a stew of rock fish and small lobsters, highly
seasoned with saffron, and a bottle of cold Chablis. He ex-
pressed pity for Augustine.
‘I’m not sorry a bit,’ said Nicole.
‘I’m sorry—and yet I wish I’d shoved her over the cliff.’
There was little they dared talk about in these days; sel-
dom did they find the right word when it counted, it arrived
always a moment too late when one could not reach the
other any more. Tonight Augustine’s outburst had shaken
them from their separate reveries; with the burn and chill of
the spiced broth and the parching wine they talked.
‘We can’t go on like this,’ Nicole suggested. ‘Or can we?—
what do you think?’ Startled that for the moment Dick did
not deny it, she continued, ‘Some of the time I think it’s my
fault—I’ve ruined you.’
‘So I’m ruined, am I?’ he inquired pleasantly.

388 Tender is the Night