"She is waiting for me--I must go," he kept repeating while the lights in the theatre went out. "I must go," he said again, and rose. They had called a cab for him, and his legs felt so unreliable that he offered no protest, though a cab seemed a terrible extravagance. Yes, he would take one; it was certain he could not walk fast enough to make up for the delay, and Nanette mustn't be allowed to grow anxious. He lay back in the cab dizzily, a hand round the neck of the bottle on his knees. "In good spirits--in good spirits!" he cautioned himself. "But her instinct is so strong. If she suspects?" On the rattling course, imagination wrung him with the moment of her suspicion--the horror in her dilating eyes, the impuissance of his agony.... "Dead!" He perceived with a shock that he had not understood that Jean was dead--that he still did not understand. "Dead." Jean, who seemed so vividly alive, was only a memory. His eagerness, his laughter, his allusions, all the intimate realities that represented Jean had been blown out. It was inconceivable; his mind would not grasp it. Where, then, did comprehension he, that he was stricken?... The cab startled him by stopping. As he had said, she was trying to be bright. She had not cast her fears aside, but she meant to hide them. She welcomed him with a smile. "Champagne _and_ a cab? What next?" "Yes, what do you think of it? I was in a hurry to get back. How has it been with you, chérie--has the evening seemed very long? Well, there is good news--you may have a glass." "He was sure?" "He said 'Yes' at once. Oh, I wouldn't have tried to persuade him--that would have been folly. I told him the reason, but I did not try to persuade him." "How tired you look! How did it go?" "It was a good audience--what there was of it. Three calls after the third act. What an appetite I've got--and what a thirst! I can't wait to take my boots off. The spread attracts me. What? I declare I see my favourite sausage!" "I couldn't go out for any flowers this year, and I forgot to remind you," she said. "But you'll find enough to eat." "And you--what is there for _you_? Let me put the pillow behind you, mignonne. And now to open the bottle! I am not an expert at the game, but--ah! it is coming. Prepare yourself for the bang.... Tiens, it is of a gentle disposition. But no doubt it will taste just as good. Sapristi, how it sparkles!" He bore a glassful to her side, and their gaze turned together to the likeness on the wall. "Well, little wife, the usual toast. To our boy, our darling Jean! May God bless him." "May God bless him," breathed the mother. They looked at the photograph silently for a moment. "I wonder if he is thinking of us?" she murmured. "Perhaps he is fancying us like this?" "I venture to say so," replied Picq. "He knows we should never forget his birthday; he knows that." "If--he is alive," she said in a whisper.