“Bah!” Georges interjected. “I may be only a simple observer, but I know when a gaffe has been committed. For a man to pretend to understand women is bad manners.”
“And for him to really understand them is bad morals,” Tania added.
“All right. Assez, assez. I’ve been holding back the beer. I admit it. I’m guilty, but there’s a reason.”
“One would hope so,” said Tania.
“Such a serious matter,” added Georges.
“It’s not such a great matter,” I said, smiling. “We’re going to have another guest.” I looked around for reactions, but there was nothing special. Henri looked a bit put out for a moment, but I had expected that. As one who cherished his nonintellectuality and tried as much as possible to keep the conversation off-color, he was not disposed to welcome a new guest who might tip the balance of the evening away from purely sensual enjoyment.
“Who is this person, Jules?” Georges asked. “We know almost everyone in Valence. Is he a neighbor?”
“Jules hasn’t said our guest is a he, Georges. Perhaps he has invited another woman.” Marcel looked at Tania and winked.
“Enough.” It was time to end the mystery. “Our guest is Auguste Lupa. I met him quite casually the other day at La Couronne. He is a connoisseur of good beer, and a very pleasant fellow. Nothing more. He’s arrived here only recently, and I thought he would enjoy a taste—shall I say of society? I think he’ll fit in very nicely with our group.” The door sounded. “Ah, that would be him.”
Fritz brought Lupa into the room and announced him grandly.
The big man stood for a moment framed in the doorway, looking at the assemblage. There was a moment of silence, and then I jumped up and performed the introductions. Only Henri seemed ill at ease, while the others nodded cautiously and Fritz went to get another round of beers. Lupa sat by the door and, after another moment, spoke.
“Please disregard my attendance here for a time. Since you are obviously all attuned to one another, you’ll want to continue as before. Don’t make allowances for me. After a time the novelty will be gone, and I’ll join in as one of you, but for now, let me drink quietly and not disturb you.”
It was a strange prologue and served more to reinforce the silence than to dispel it.
“Nonsense,” said I. “Why don’t you tell the group about yourself? It isn’t every day we welcome a new member.”
“Member?”
“Well, not really a member of anything. Sometimes we do refer to ourselves as a group of sorts, but nothing so rigid as to demand membership.”
