champagne whenever it is offered to you by patriots, collaborators or enthusiasts.”
“But was there nothing wonderful nor great, the way it is in books?”
“Of course. There was the city itself. The people were very happy. Old general officers were walking about in their moth-balled uniforms. We were very happy, too, not to have to fight.”
“Did you not have to fight at all?”
“Only three times. Then not seriously.”
“But was that all you had to fight to take such a city?”
“Daughter, we fought twelve times from Rambouillet to enter the city. But only two of them were worth describing as fights. Those at Toussus le Noble and at LeBuc. The rest was the necessary garnishing of a dish. I really did not need to fight at all except at those two places.”
“Tell me some true things about fighting.”
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” the girl said. “You can publish it in the Gazzettino if you like. I love your hard, flat body and your strange eyes that frighten me when they become wicked. I love your hand and all your other wounded places.”
“I better try to tell you something pretty good,” the Colonel said. “First I can tell you that I love you Period.”
“Why don’t you buy some good glass?” the girl asked, suddenly. “We could go to Murano together.”
“I don’t know anything about glass.”
“I could teach you. It would be fun.”
