“I have to go.”
“Another night,” said Bassi. "Another night when you feel stronger.” He slapped me on the shoulder. There were lighted candles on the table. All the officers were very happy. “Good-night, gentlemen,” I said.
Rinaldi went out with me. We stood outside the door on the patch and he said, “You’d better not go up there drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, Rinin. Really.”
“You'd better chew some coffee.”
“Nonsense.”
“I’ll get some, baby. You walk up and down.” He came back with a handful of roasted coffee beans. “Chew those, baby, and God be with you.”
“Bacchus,” I said.
“I’ll walk down with you.”
“I’m perfectly all right.”
We walked along together through the town and I chewed the coffee. At the gate of the driveway that led up to the British villa, Rinaldi said good-night.
“Good-night,” I said. “Why don’t you come in?”
He shook his head. “No,” he said, “I like the simpler pleasures.”
“Thank you for the coffee beans.”
“Nothing, baby. Nothing.”
I started down the driveway. The outlines of the cypresses that lined it were sharp and clear. I looked back and saw Rinaldi standing watching me and waved to him.
I sat in the reception hall of the villa, waiting for Catherine Barkley to come down. Some one was coming down the hall-way. I stood up, but it was not Catherine. It was Miss Ferguson.
“Hello,” she said. “Catherine asked me to tell you she was sorry she couldn’t see you this evening.”
