Heineman bowed, his big grinning face bobbing up and down like the face of a Chinese figure in porcelain. “Lui est Sinbad,” he cried, pointing with a wide gesture towards Henslowe. “Give 'em some more, Heinz. Give them some more,” said Henslowe, laughing. “Big brunettes with long stelets On the shores of Italee, Dutch girls with golden curls Beside the Zuyder Zee...” Everybody cheered again; Andrews kept looking at the girl at the next table, whose face was red from laughter. She had a handkerchief pressed to her mouth, and kept saying in a low voice: “O qu'il est drole, celui-la.... O qu'il est drole.” Heineman picked up a glass and waved it in the air before drinking it off. Several people got up and filled it up from their bottles with white wine and red. The French soldier at the next table pulled an army canteen from under his chair and hung it round Heineman's neck. Heineman, his face crimson, bowed to all sides, more like a Chinese porcelain figure than ever, and started singing in all solemnity this time. “Hulas and hulas would pucker up their lips, He fell for their ball-bearing hips For they were pips...” His chunky body swayed to the ragtime. The woman in the corner kept time with long white arms raised above her head. “Bet she's a snake charmer,” said Henslowe. “O, wild woman loved that child He would drive ten women wild! O, Sinbad was in bad all around!” Heineman waved his arms, pointed again to Henslowe, and sank into his chair saying in the tones of a Shakespearean actor: “C'est lui Sinbad.” The girl hid her face on the tablecloth, shaken with laughter. Andrews could hear a convulsed little voice saying: “O qu'il est rigolo....” Heineman took off the canteen and handed it back to the French soldier. “Merci, Camarade,” he said solemnly. “Eh bien, Jeanne, c'est temps de ficher le camp,” said the French soldier to the girl. They got up. He shook hands with the Americans. Andrews caught the girl's eye and they both started laughing convulsively again. Andrews noticed how erect and supple she walked as his eyes followed her to the door. Andrews's party followed soon after. “We've got to hurry if we want to get to the Lapin Agile before closing... and I've got to have a drink,” said Heineman, still talking in his stagey Shakespearean voice. “Have you ever been on the stage?” asked Andrews. “What stage, sir? I'm in the last stages now, sir.... I am an artistic photographer and none other.... Moki and I are going into the movies together when they decide to have peace.” “Who's Moki?” “Moki Hadj is the lady in the salmon-colored dress,” said Henslowe, in a loud stage whisper in Andrews's ear. “They have a lion cub named Bubu.” “Our first born,” said Heineman with a wave of the hand.