‘You do not understand, Gérard. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. He would have to probe further. “I want to be your friend,” he said. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors.
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