“They broke into the de Roulets last night. Jean-Fran-9ois is nervous about going away and says we must find someone to stay in the apartment this summer. And you, madame, aren't you worried here by yourself?"
“But I have Pippo, who I assure you can be very fierce." Faith looked at the fat little pug curled up on the Aubusson carpet and doubted it. Wave a hunk of filet mi-gnon at him and he'd help carry the furniture. "Besides, I am seldom away and I doubt anyone could get into the apartment."
“This is true," Valentina said. "They come in from the fire escapes or the balconies and Madame Vincent has neither so far up in the clouds here. I think she is quite safe. I worry for my pictures, you can imagine, yet so far they seem interested only in jewels. I will have to ask Michel if there are any changes in what they have been taking. Of course, the newspapers are allowed to say nothing."
“He's away. I have been trying to reach him," Faith said before thinking better of it, but having called his house virtually every hour on the hour, the mere mention of his name caused this reflex response.
“Michel is away?" Valentina asked.
“Is this Michel Ravier you are speaking of?" Solange asked.
“Yes," Faith answered, glad to take the conversation into other waters. "Do you know him also?”
Solange laughed and reached inside her pretty Long-champs bag for her cigarettes. "Everyone knows Michel and many wish they did better." After the laughter died down, she said to Faith, "He was at school with my husband and we have known him for many years."
“Sometimes I think all the men hi Lyon were at the Marists together," Faith commented.
“Ah, so you are acquainted with the Marists. Yes, it does seem that way. Jean-Francois was very disappointed when Christophe left the school. He wanted to go to this one on the Croix Rousse that is so popular these days. But since the Marists are taking girls, all the other children are with them and I pray they stay there for their father's sake. Amelie has been talking of Lycee du Pare; I am not listening."
“Children will do what they want," Madame Vincent said emphatically. "We wished for them so long, but now I think maybe it was a good thing. Pippo is far more obedient and life has been simpler.”
Faith looked at Valentina, wondering whether she, too, would attest to the benefits of the childless state, but she was looking very pensive and perhaps her flippant answer about Georges being enough was not the true key to her feelings.
“Well," said Solange, "I speak as an authority. Children are nice, especially when they are babies, but it is a frightening thought to have five teenagers. Perhaps if he had known, Jean-Francois would not have been so eager." She stood up and picked a crumb from her bright blue Sonia Rykiel outfit, looking very beautiful and very complacent. If anyone's children were going to frighten their mother, it wasn't going to be Solange's. Faith was reminded that she wanted to get the name of Solange's hairdresser.
“I like the way your hair is cut so much, Solange. Where do you have it done?"
“A wonderful man, Italian, of course—they are the best coiffeurs—named Giovanni. He works at the Quick Coupe hi the Place Sathonay, not far from here. Just at the foot of the Croix Rousse."
“I know where it is, behind Ben's school and near the covered market at Place Rambaud.”
Valentina laughed. "You know the markets of Lyon better than we do.”
Faith was thinking out loud. "I'd love to get my hair cut before we go to Carcassonne."
“Oh, Carcassonne. My husband and I went there often. It is so beautiful," rhapsodized Madame Vincent.
“When do you go?" Solange asked.
“Tomorrow morning," Faith answered. "Just until Monday."
“If you like, I can call Giovanni and see if he can take you early before you leave, or perhaps you would prefer to wait until you get back?”
Faith was filled with a great longing to have her hair done. She'd go this instant if she could. There was nothing quite like the feeling of all that pampering and the resultant new look.
“Could you call? I can be there when they open.”
Madame Vincent waved Solange to her telephone, which nestled behind a line of leather-covered, gold-embossed classics of French literature on a marble-topped chest. It was quickly done and Faith was signed up for a coupe and brosse at eight o'clock. She was amazed they opened so early.
“At Carcassonne, you must search out what is left of a bust of Lady Carcas," Valentina instructed Faith. "It is not so interesting artistically as historically. She was a Spaniard, a Saracen, who outsmarted the great Charlemagne himself. The town had been under siege for five years and the entire garrison dead of hunger. Lady Carcas made some dummies and arranged them on the ramparts, then went from one to another, shooting arrows at the enemy. Finally, she took the last remaining pig,, let it eat all the grain left, and threw it from the top of the tower. Of course when Charlemagne split the belly open and saw it was filled with grain, he gave in and left. Some say the town is called Carcassonne because when she sounded trumpets to call him back to reveal what she had done, satisfied with the glory of it, he didn't hear. But an equerry did and said to him, 'Sire, Carcas te sonne.' Personally, I doubt whether a woman like that would have called her enemy back, unless she could gloat over him in some way."
“What a wonderful story. I'll tell Tom and we'll be sure to pay homage to Lady Carcas," Faith said, thinking at the same time that the whole thing was very like something Valentina might do. She pictured her running along the battlements taking aim, much as she sized up prospects at her gallery.
“Now, cheries, this has been such a nice time with all these stories and so forth, but I must go. Next time, you come to me," Solange announced, and moved toward the door.
Faith stood up also. "It has been lovely. Thank you so much, Madame Vincent.”
Solange looked surprised. "But you do not have to leave yet, Faith. Amelie is so happy to play with Benjamin."
“Do stay," Madame Vincent said as it became apparent that Valentina was also leaving.
“Only for one more cup," Faith agreed, realizing how lonely Yvette Vincent must be up among the chimneys.
The others left and as Faith sipped her tea, Yvette reminisced about her husband and all the traveling they had done together. "But we never got to your country, mal-heureusement," she said.
“Perhaps you will come yourself," Faith said, getting up this time in earnest. It was almost six o'clock.
“My travels are finished. A short trip to my sister in Narbonne, occasionally. It is enough. And sometimes a few days in Paris. That is always necessary.”
Faith totally agreed.
At the door, madame kissed her on both cheeks with a heartiness that surprised Faith. As Faith returned the salutation on Yvette's velvety soft, wrinkled skin, she realized madame was whispering something to her.
“Go to Carcassonne with your lovely husband, cherie, then do not stay in Lyon long. It is not a place for everyone.”
As she went down the stairs to her apartment, Faith wasn't sure whether she had imagined the warning or not.
Like the body in the trash, it would disappear if mentioned aloud.
When he got to the bottom of the fire escape, he took off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket together with the black knit hat that had covered his hair. He knotted a red bandanna casually about his neck before strolling out to the street. It was late and there weren't too many people out. He passed a young couple, entwined together, with their hands in the back pockets of each other's jeans. They didn 't even glance his way. Lovesick fools, he thought. What did they know of life? For an instant, he thought of emptying the shopping bag he was carrying with such apparent nonchalance in front of them. He could hardly stop himself from laughing out loud as he pictured their astonished faces when they saw what was wrapped in rags under the old clothes.