Joseph rather curiously
inspected his waiter as he made his accustomed round in the cafe. But,
pale as usual, Ambroise stood near his table, his whole bearing an
intent and thoroughly professional one. Joseph was satisfied and drove
the chef back to the kitchen.
The young Alsatian had never seen Aholibah look so radiant. She was in
high spirits, and her pungent talk aroused her companion from incipient
moroseness. After midnight the party grew--some actresses from a near-by
theatre came in with their male friends, and another waiter was detailed
to the aid of Ambroise. But he stuck to the first-comers and served so
much wine to them that he had the satisfaction of seeing Aholibah's
disagreeable protector collapse. She hardly noticed it, for she was
talking vivaciously to Madeleine about the premiere of Donnay's comedy.
Thrice Ambroise sought to fill her glass; but she repulsed him. He was
sad. Something told him that Aholibah was farther away from him than
ever; was she on the eve of forming one of those alliances that would
rob him finally of her presence? He eyed the sleeping man--surely a
monster, a millionnaire, with the tastes of a brute.
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