"Yes. I agree he is a talented boy and would look better than old Jacques, but would he take care of her? I say this only to you, but I feel she thinks that with him on the stage she would appear younger."
Vermillion smiled. "What does Figente say?"
"He has not been told. I must go before she arrives. I do not wish her to know I told you."
"I won't."
"Perhaps between us we can still influence her to take the revue offer. I would worry if she returned to France without me or you."
"No one must influence another against his bent."
"You will not hold it against me?"
"How can I, of all people?"
They shook hands and Jacques hurried away.
Seeing him alone Lucy rejoined Vermillion and saw, over his shoulder, Simone arrive, narrow as a boy in rumpled grey tweeds, a beret, a green scarf, a ratty fur coat over her arm, and Hal.
And here was Tessie rushing up. Oh shoot!
"I can only stay a moment," Tessie gushed, with a provocative eye on Vermillion. "I do love your paintings."
"He's another artist, come and meet Clem Brush who painted these," Lucy said, taking her firmly by the arm to save Vermillion from anyone so flighty. "I hear you are taking dancing lessons."
"Yes, and I'm also taking dramatic lessons from a divine Russian who teaches you how to scream and cry the way they do in the Moscow Art Theatre."
"But you are an actress."
"Thank you, darling, but I feel an actress should enlarge herself. I would love to do something as a serious artist."
Well, for heaven's sake, Tessie too! Everybody wants something else, Lucy reflected wonderingly.
The static landscapes with small figures and still lifes were not what Simone had expected from the shy rough-finished American, but her vocabulary of professional civility was always ready.
"You are indeed the Breughel of America," she said, and went to Paul who was at last alone. "As one can reach you so rarely I am happy to find you here as I should not want to leave America without seeing you," she rattled in taut cold monotone, her face parchment white.
