He had begun to laugh again. Olivier thought that it was for fear of crying. He would have liked to speak in his turn, to tell Armand how much his words had moved him, and how he felt all the sickness of heart that lay beneath his exasperating irony. But the time for his rendezvous with Passavant was pressing him; he pulled out his watch. “I must go now. Are you free this evening?” “What for?” “To come and meet me at the Taverne du Panthéon. The _Argonauts_ are giving a dinner. You might look in afterwards. There’ll be a lot of fellows there--some of them more or less well known--and most of them rather drunk. Bernard Profitendieu has promised to come. It might be funny.” “I’m not shaved,” said Armand a little crossly. “And then what should I do among a lot of celebrities? But, I say--why don’t you ask Sarah? She got back from England this very morning. I’m sure it would amuse her. Shall I invite her from you? Bernard could take her.” “All right, old chap,” said Olivier. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 6: _Es-tu vase funèbre attendant quelques pleurs?_] VIII THE ARGONAUTS’ DINNER IT HAD been agreed then that Bernard and Edouard, after having dined together, should pick up Sarah a little before ten o’clock. She had delightedly accepted the proposal passed on to her by Armand. At about half past nine, she had gone up to her bedroom, accompanied by her mother. She had to pass through her parents’ room in order to reach hers; but another door, which was supposed to be kept shut, led from Sarah’s room to Armand’s, which in its turn opened, as we have seen, on to the backstairs. Sarah, in her mother’s presence, made as though she were going to bed, and asked to be left to go to sleep; but as soon as she was alone, she went up to her dressing table to put an added touch of brilliancy to her lips and cheeks. The toilette table had been placed in front of the closed door, but it was not too heavy for Sarah to lift noiselessly. She opened the door. Sarah was afraid of meeting her brother, whose sarcasms she dreaded. Armand, it is true, encouraged her most audacious exploits; it was as though he took pleasure in them--but only with a kind of temporary indulgence, for it was to judge them later on with all the greater severity; so that Sarah wondered whether his complaisance itself was not calculated to play the censor’s game.