CHAPTER XXXV
Catherine went along the lake to the little hotel to see Ferguson and I sat in the bar and read the papers. There were comfortable leather chairs in the bar and I sat in one of them and read until the barman came in. The army had not stood at the Tagliamento. They were falling back to the Piave. I remembered the Piave. The railroad crossed it near San Dona going up to the front. It was deep and slow there and quite narrow. Down below there were mosquito marshes and canals. There were some lovely villas. Once, before the war, going up to Cortina D’Ampezzo I had gone along it for several hours in the hills. Up there it looked like a trout stream, flowing swiftly with shallow stretches and pools under the shadow of the rocks. The road turned off from it at Cadore. I wondered how the army that was up there would come down.
The barman came in.
“Count Greffi was asking for you,” he said.
“Who?”
“Count Greffi. You remember the old man who was here when you were here before.”
“Is he here?”
“Yes, he’s here with his niece. I told him you were here. He wants you to play billiards.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s taking a walk.”
“How is he?”
“He’s younger than ever. He drank three champagne cocktails last night before dinner.”
“How’s his billiard game?”
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