‘“Who cares?” I said. “That is easily remedied. What do you need except a cushion–two cushions if necessary? It is an inspiration from heaven, ma chère. Don’t waste it.”

‘Well, in the end I persuaded her, and then we borrowed a cushion and I got her ready and took her to the maternity hospital. They received her with open arms. They gave her cabbage soup, a ragoût of beef, a purée of potatoes, bread and cheese and beer, and all kinds of advice about her baby. Yvonne gorged till she almost burst her skin, and managed to slip some of the bread and cheese into her pocket for me. I took her there every day until I had money again. My intelligence had saved us.

‘Everything went well until a year later. I was with Yvonne again, and one day we were walking down the Boulevard Port Royal, near the barracks. Suddenly Yvonne’s mouth fell open, and she began turning red and white, and red again.

‘“Mon Dieu!” she cried, “look at that who is coming! It is the nurse who was in charge at the maternity hospital. I am ruined!”

‘“Quick!” I said, “run!” But it was too late. The nurse had recognised Yvonne, and she came straight up to us, smiling. She was a big fat woman with a gold pince-nez and red cheeks like the cheeks of an apple. A motherly, interfering kind of woman.

‘“I hope you are well, ma petite?” she said kindly. “And your baby, is he well too? Was it a boy, as you were hoping?”

‘Yvonne had begun trembling so hard that I had to grip her arm. “No,” she said at last.

‘“Ah, then, évidemment, it was a girl?”

‘Thereupon Yvonne, the idiot, lost her head completely. “No,” she actually said again!

‘The nurse was taken aback. “Comment!” she exclaimed, “neither a boy nor a girl! But how can that be?”

‘Figure to yourselves, messieurs et dames, it was a dangerous moment. Yvonne had turned the colour of a beetroot and looked ready to burst into tears; another second and she would have confessed everything. Heaven knows what might have happened. But as for me, I had kept my head; I stepped in and saved the situation.

‘“It was twins,” I said calmly.

‘“Twins!” exclaimed the nurse. And she was so pleased that she took Yvonne by the shoulders and embraced her on both cheeks, publicly.

‘Yes, twins…’

Chapter XIX

XIX

ONE DAY, when we had been at the Hôtel X. five or six weeks, Boris disappeared without notice. In the evening I found him waiting for me in the Rue de Rivoli. He slapped me gaily on the shoulder.

‘Free at last, mon ami! You can give notice in the morning. The Auberge opens tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’