We drove along through the streets very slowly.
It was warm and clear.
People were sitting in front of the Cafes.
Music drifted across.
Pat was sitting beside me.
I suddenly could not believe that she was really ill; I made myself quite hot in the effort, but for a moment I just could not believe it.
In "The Bar" we met Ferdinand and Valentin.
Ferdinand was in form.
He got up and went toward Pat.
"Diana," said he, "back from the woods—" She smiled.
He put his arm about her shoulders.
"Brown, bold huntress of the silver bow—what will you drink?"
Gottfried removed Ferdinand's arm.
"Sob merchants are always tactless," said he. "The lady is escorted by two gentlemen already; you probably have not noticed that, you great buffalo."
"Romantics are a following—not an escort," declared Ferdinand unperturbed.
Lenz grinned and turned to Pat.
"Now I'm going to mix you something really remarkable.
A Kolibri cocktail. A Brazilian specialty."
He went to the counter, mixed all kinds of things, and then brought along the cocktail. "How does it taste?" he asked.
"A bit thin, but Brazilian," Pat replied.
Gottfried laughed.
"It is powerful all the same.
Made with rum and vodka."
I saw at a glance that there was neither rum nor vodka in it—it was fruit juice, lemon, tomato, perhaps a drop of .
Angostura.
A non-alcoholic cocktail.
But Pat, thank heaven, did not notice.
She had three large Kolibris, and I noticed how well she felt at not being treated as if she were ill.
After an hour we left, only Valentin remaining.
Lenz had arranged it so.
He invited Ferdinand into the Citroen and steamed off.
In that way it did not appear as if Pat and I. were leaving early.
It was all very thoughtful, but for a moment it made me feel as miserable as a dog.
Pat took my arm.
With her lovely, graceful stride she walked beside me; I felt the warmth of her hand, I saw the shimmer of the lamplight as it glided over her animated face— No, I could not believe that she was ill; I could believe it only in the daytime, but not at night when life was gentler, warmer, and full of promise.
"Should we go to my place for a bit?" I asked.
She nodded.
The passage of our pension was lighted.
"Damn," said I. "What's happening now?
Wait a minute, will you?"
I opened the door and looked in.
The passage lay badly illuminated like some narrow suburban alley.
The door to Frau Bender's room was wide-open, and there was light there too.
Like a little black ant Hasse was trotting along the corridor, bowed under a standing lamp with pink silk shade.
He turned slowly.
"Good evening," said I. "So late?" '
He lifted up his pale face with its drooping, dark moustache.
"I only got back from the office an hour ago.
And I only have time at night to do the moving."
"Is your wife not there then?"