The lights from the boats sweep through the concierge’s lodge and the false dawn sets the caged birds chirping. “Hush, my angels,” says Ana Carvalho, as she looks at the invitation hand-delivered for Sylvie. Another recital, just the kind of thing Sylvie loves, but Ana knows she will not go, not alone. She would offer to go with Sylvie, but that kind of gloomy music depresses her, frankly; a bal musette now, that’s something else, she likes a bit of dancing as much as the next person. She wonders if the Americans would care to accompany Sylvie, but maybe they only like the mournful cowboy songs one hears on the radio.

Instead of taking the invitation upstairs right away, Ana waits until Sylvie and the Taylors are both in the courtyard. Handing Sylvie the card, Ana Carvalho says, “Perhaps les Américains would like to accompany you?” Sylvie smiles. Could her prompting be any more transparent? But she holds out the invitation to Will and Alice and asks if they’re free to join her for the recital.

“We’d love to,” says Alice. “Oh, wait, it says Tuesday. Sorry, I can’t, I’ll be on a conference call with my department.”

Meetings at night, thinks Ana Carvalho, who’s all for working hard, but that’s carrying things too far. Then she remembers the time difference, and realizes of course it will be afternoon there, Alice’s colleagues will be working through lunch. That seems a bit excessive, too, but what can you expect from Americans, they are not reposeful people, their shops are open day and night, their television channels never shut down, no wonder they’re all rolling in money, just like the show Dallas, she’s completely hooked on it, never misses an episode.

Sylvie says, “Another time, then.” She puts the invitation in her purse, thinking she must call Félix, come up with some excuse.

But Alice turns to Will and says, “You’d like to go, though, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

So that’s settled, then, thinks Ana Carvalho, as she goes back to watering the clivia.