Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 2).djvu/342

 They have done so, Madame, and I have sent on the message.

Sent it on! Am I not to have a sleeping-carriage at once, then?'

Impossible, Madame; we have no carriages here. They can only furnish you with one at Lyons.'

At Lyons! At what o'clock?'

At 5.45, Madame.'

At the end of the journey! But, Monsieur, I can't remain in this coupe until that time! Impossible! I won't!"

Take care, Madame, the train is starting!'

"It started.

"She threw herself into her corner again, in a furious pet, without casting a glance at me. I plunged once more into the contents of my newspapers—into the contents of the tenth, that is to say.

"Shall I confess it! That paper took me longer to read than its nine predecessors. Twenty times I began the same line; I believe that at least for some time the paper was upside down. Hang it, one can't be shut up for a long journey with a pretty woman without feeling some sort of emotion!

"I greatly wanted to enter into conversation with her, but what pretext for doing it could I find? The classic resources of putting up or down the windows, in such a state of the temperature, were non-available. What was there to do?—launch a commonplace remark of some kind? Better a hundred times keep silent than do that. My companion, I had seen at a glance with my Parisian eyes, was a woman of the best society. To speak to her brusquely, without being known to her, would have made me appear in her eyes no better than a vulgar commercial traveller. The only way of drawing her into conversation would be to find something strikingly original to say to her; but what?—what? I sought laboriously, but did not find.

"I was still continuing that search, when the train stopped suddenly, thanks to the powers of the new break—so good against accidents, but so bad for passengers.

Tonnerre!—twenty-five minutes' stoppage!' cried porter, opening the carriage-door.

"My companion rose, threw off her rugs which, with her three bags, she left in the carriage, and descended on to the platform. It was noon. Hunger had begun to make itself felt. She moved towards the buffet on the left, across the line.

"I followed her. I was then enabled to admire at my ease the elegance of her figure, well set off by a long fur mantle. I remarked also that she had a pretty neck, a grey felt hat, and very tiny feet.

"At the entrance to the buffet stood the manager. Wearing a velvet cap and bearing a striking resemblance to Napoleon III., he pointed out with his hand and with a napkin a long table to be taken by assault.

I entered with a crowd of travellers—ruffled, hurried; in short, that stream of persons essentially grotesque and derogatory to human beauty, of an express train, bent all on devouring food of some sort.

"I seated myself and hastily swallowed the succession of dishes set before me: my lady traveller took some soup at a separate table.

"I was amongst the first to rise, and went out upon the platform to smoke a cigarette. The twenty-five minutes—reduced to twenty according to rule—were quickly spent. The passengers came in groups from the refectory and returned to their places in the carriages. I rein-