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Nicole
went
to
the
window
and
bent
over
the
sill
to
take
a
look
at
the
rising
altercation
on
the
terrace
;
the
April
sun
shone
pink
on
the
saintly
face
of
Augustine
,
the
cook
,
and
blue
on
the
butcher
’
s
knife
she
waved
in
her
drunken
hand
.
She
had
been
with
them
since
their
return
to
Villa
Diana
in
February
.
Because
of
an
obstruction
of
an
awning
she
could
see
only
Dick
’
s
head
and
his
hand
holding
one
of
his
heavy
canes
with
a
bronze
knob
on
it
.
The
knife
and
the
cane
,
menacing
each
other
,
were
like
tripos
and
short
sword
in
a
gladiatorial
combat
.
Dick
’
s
words
reached
her
first
:
"
—
care
how
much
kitchen
wine
you
drink
but
when
I
find
you
digging
into
a
bottle
of
Chablis
Moutonne
—
"
"
You
talk
about
drinking
!
"
Augustine
cried
,
flourishing
her
sabre
.
"
You
drink
—
all
the
time
!
"
Nicole
called
over
the
awning
:
"
What
’
s
the
matter
,
Dick
?
"
and
he
answered
in
English
:
"
The
old
girl
has
been
polishing
off
the
vintage
wines
.
I
’
m
firing
her
—
at
least
I
’
m
trying
to
.
"
"
Heavens
!
Well
,
don
’
t
let
her
reach
you
with
that
knife
.
"
Augustine
shook
her
knife
up
at
Nicole
.
Her
old
mouth
was
made
of
two
small
intersecting
cherries
.
"
I
would
like
to
say
,
Madame
,
if
you
knew
that
your
husband
drinks
over
at
his
Bastide
comparatively
as
a
day
-
laborer
—
"
"
Shut
up
and
get
out
!
"
interrupted
Nicole
.
"
We
’
ll
get
the
gendarmes
.
"
