“Well, I must go,” said Lieutenant Bleezer, suddenly striding to the door. “I promised the Marquise I'd drop in. Good-bye.... Take a cigar, won't you?” He held out three cigars in the direction of Andrews. “No, thank you.” “Oh, don't you think the old aristocracy of France is just too wonderful? Lieutenant Bleezer goes almost every evening to call on the Marquise de Rompemouville. He says she is just too spirituelle for words.... He often meets the Commanding Officer there.” Andrews had dropped into a chair and sat with his face buried in his hands, looking through his fingers at the fire, where a few white fingers of flame were clutching intermittently at a grey beech log. His mind was searching desperately for expedients. He got to his feet and shouted shrilly: “I can't go this life any more, do you hear that? No possible future is worth all this. If I can get to Paris, all right. If not, I'll desert and damn the consequences.” “But I've already promised I'll do all I can....” “Well, do it now,” interrupted Andrews brutally. “All right, I'll go and see the colonel and tell him what a great musician you are.” “Let's go together, now.” “But that'll look queer, dear boy.” “I don't give a damn, come along.... You can talk to him. You seem to be thick with all the officers.” “You must wait till I tidy up,” said Sheffield. “All right.” Andrews strode up and down in the mud in front of the house, snapping his fingers with impatience, until Sheffield came out, then they walked off in silence. “Now wait outside a minute,” whispered Sheffield when they came to the white house with bare grapevines over the front, where the colonel lived. After a wait, Andrews found himself at the door of a brilliantly-lighted drawing room. There was a dense smell of cigar smoke. The colonel, an elderly man with a benevolent beard, stood before him with a coffee cup in his hand. Andrews saluted punctiliously. “They tell me you are quite a pianist.... Sorry I didn't know it before,” said the colonel in a kindly tone. “You want to go to Paris to study under this new scheme?” “Yes, sir.” “What a shame I didn't know before. The list of the men going is all made out.... Of course perhaps at the last minute... if somebody else doesn't go... your name can go in.” The colonel smiled graciously and turned back into the room. “Thank you, Colonel,” said Andrews, saluting. Without a word to Sheffield, he strode off down the dark village street towards his quarters.