“Could you tell me any anecdotes, and we stop talking about this, which is my true sorrow?”
“I can tell you hundreds of them. All true.”
“Tell me just one. Then we will finish this wine and then go in the gondola.”
“Do you think you will be warm enough?”
“Oh, I’m sure I will.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” the Colonel said. “Everything about war bores those who have not made it. Except the tales of the liars.”
“I would like to know about the taking of Paris.”
“Why? Because I told you that you looked like Marie Antoinette in the tumbril?”
“No. I was complimented by that and I know we are a little alike in profile. But I have never been in any tumbril, and I would like to hear about Paris. When you love someone and he is your hero, you like to hear about the places and the things.”
“Please turn your head,” the Colonel said, “and I will tell you. Gran Maestro is there any more in that wretched bottle?”
“No,” the Gran Maestro answered.
“Then bring another.”
“I have one already iced.”
“Good. Serve it. Now, Daughter, we parted from the column of the General Leclerc at Clamart. They went to Montrouge and the Porte d’Orleans and we went directly to Bas Meudon and secured the bridge of the Porte de Saint Cloud. Is this too technical and does it bore you?”
“No.”
“It would be better with a map.”
“Go on.”
“We secured the bridge and established a bridge-head on the other side of the river and we threw the Germans, living and dead, who had defended the bridge, into the Seine River,” he stopped. “It was a token defense of course. They should have blown it. We threw all these Germans into the River Seine. They were nearly all office workers, I believe.”
“Go on.”
“The next morning, we were informed that the Germans had strong points at various places, and artillery on Mount Valérien, and that tanks were roaming the streets. A portion of this was true. We were also requested not to enter too rapidly as the General Leclerc was to take the city. I complied with this request and entered as slowly as I could.”
“How do you do that?”
“You hold up your attack two hours and you drink champagne whenever it is offered to you by patriots, collaborators or enthusiasts.”
“But was there nothing wonderful nor great, the way it is in books?”
“Of course. There was the city itself. The people were very happy. Old general officers were walking about in their moth-balled uniforms. We were very happy, too, not to have to fight.”
“Did you not have to fight at all?”
“Only three times. Then not seriously.”
“But was that all you had to fight to take such a city?”
“Daughter, we fought twelve times from Rambouillet to enter the city. But only two of them were worth describing as fights. Those at Toussus le Noble and at LeBuc. The rest was the necessary garnishing of a dish. I really did not need to fight at all except at those two places.”
“Tell me some true things about fighting.”
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” the girl said. “You can publish it in the Gazzettino if you like. I love your hard, flat body and your strange eyes that frighten me when they become wicked. I love your hand and all your other wounded places.”
“I better try to tell you something pretty good,” the Colonel said. “First I can tell you that I love you Period.”
“Why don’t you buy some good glass?” the girl asked, suddenly. “We could go to Murano together.”
“I don’t know anything about glass.”
“I could teach you. It would be fun.”
“We lead too nomadic a life for good glass.”
“But when you retire and live here.”
“We’ll get some then.”
“I wish that that was now.”
“So do I, except that I go duck shooting tomorrow and that tonight is tonight.”
“Can I come duck shooting?”
“Only if Alvarito asks you.”
“I can make him ask me.”
“I doubt that.”
“It isn’t polite to doubt what your Daughter says when she is old enough not to lie.”