More silence followed. The breeze had mellowed. The mood of a Chagall painting faintly flavoured the air. Circus folk had joined the acrobats on the festive street. Passers-by had given money to the busker, and he renewed his Mozartian fluting, weaving the most teasing enchantments through the air. Prancing young men and beautiful young women charmed the eyes. Old men and women, re-inventing their youthful selves, with slightly perplexed looks on their faces, moved through the flowing throng. And Husk, who had stopped weeping, and had just gulped half a glass of red wine, said:
‘If I have an Arcadia I would say it is love.’
She paused. Her hard and tough and tight-lipped face suddenly crumpled and became distorted as she attempted to continue.
‘I just want… I just want… forgive me, I’m not usually… usually… like this… I never show anything… never… But I just want my love… my love… I want my love back…’
And she got up, and fled from the table, in strange grief and broken-hearted anguish. She ran into the gaiety and cheerfulness of the Parisian evening. It was a gaiety that is indifferent to the misery of the heart-broken, because the invisible Paris, though young and beautiful, though eternally enchanting, prefers those who are happy in love, much prefers the company of the cheerful. His eyes are too fixed on the scenes of human celebrations and fiestas to notice the battles and woundings of the heart. And some think the invisible Paris heartless for that reason, but it’s just that he is the eternal personification of the spirit of youth, who prefers beauty to all else, and happiness to misery. He follows what charms his eyes.
Husk was unnoticed by Paris as she stumbled through the crowds. Most of the crew members, led by Jim, ran to find Husk to console her.
She was eventually spotted wandering down a side street, alone, surrounded by tender blue shadows. But she was not weeping any more. And when they came upon her she smiled. Her hard eyes were harder in her smiling. She said:
‘I didn’t mean to spoil that wonderful discussion. Forget that this happened. I was just following a lovely white cat. Someone had painted her tail blue. Oh, you all came after me. How kind you all are. Let’s go back to our discussion. I’ll behave from now on.’