I stared at her; then I cried with a laugh, "Krak? Not Krak?"
"Yes, Krak, as you naughty children used to call her."
"Good Heavens, does the world still hold Krak?"
"Of course. She's rather an old woman, though. You'll be kind to her, Augustin? She was always very fond of you."
"I will treat Krak," said I, "with all affection."
Surely I would, for Krak's coming put the crown of completeness on the occasion. But I was amazed; Krak was utterly stuff of the past.
My mother did not appear to desire my presence longer; I had to take up my own position and receive farewells.
A dreary half hour passed in this occupation; at last the throng grew thin. I broke away and sauntered off to a buffet for a sandwich and a glass of champagne. There I saw Wetter and Varvilliers standing together and refreshing their jaded bodies. I joined them at once, full of the news about Krak. It fell rather flat, I regret to say; Krak had not significance for them, and Wetter was full of wild brilliant talk. Varvilliers' manner, on the other hand, although displaying now no awkwardness or restraint, showed unusual gentleness and gravity with an added friendliness very welcome to me. I stood between my friends, sipping my wine and detaining them, although the room was nearly empty. I felt a reluctance to part and an invincible repugnance to my bed.
"Come to my quarters," I said, "and we'll have cigars."
