The voice was confidential and ingratiating.  Aaron, relieved from the world’s stress and seeing life anew in the rosy glow of half a litre of good old Chianti—­the war was so near but gone by—­looked up at the dark blue, ingenuous, well-adapted eyes of our friend Francis, and smiling, said: 

“Yes, I saw you on the balcony as well.”

“Oh, did you notice us?” plunged Francis.  “But wasn’t it an extraordinary affair?”

“Very,” said Aaron.  “I couldn’t make it out, could you?”

“Oh,” cried Francis.  “I never try.  It’s all much too new and complicated for me.—­But perhaps you know Italy?”

“No, I don’t,” said Aaron.

“Neither do we.  And we feel rather stunned.  We had only just arrived —­and then—­Oh!” Francis put up his hand to his comely brow and rolled his eyes.  “I feel perfectly overwhelmed with it still.”

He here allowed himself to sink friendlily into the vacant chair opposite Aaron’s.

“Yes, I thought it was a bit exciting,” said Aaron.  “I wonder what will become of him—­”

“—­Of the one who climbed for the flag, you mean?  No!—­But wasn’t it perfectly marvellous!  Oh, incredible, quite incredible!—­And then your flute to finish it all!  Oh!  I felt it only wanted that.—­I haven’t got over it yet.  But your playing was MARVELLOUS, really marvellous.  Do you know, I can’t forget it.  You are a professional musician, of course.”

“If you mean I play for a living,” said Aaron.  “I have played in orchestras in London.”

“Of course!  Of course!  I knew you must be a professional.  But don’t you give private recitals, too?”

“No, I never have.”

“Oh!” cried Francis, catching his breath.  “I can’t believe it.  But you play MARVELLOUSLY!  Oh, I just loved it, it simply swept me away, after that scene in the street.  It seemed to sum it all up, you know.”

“Did it,” said Aaron, rather grimly.

“But won’t you come and have coffee with us at our table?” said Francis.  “We should like it most awfully if you would.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Aaron, half-rising.

“But you haven’t had your dessert,” said Francis, laying a fatherly detaining hand on the arm of the other man.  Aaron looked at the detaining hand.

“The dessert isn’t much to stop for,” he said.  “I can take with me what I want.”  And he picked out a handful of dried figs.

The two went across to Angus’ table.

“We’re going to take coffee together,” said Francis complacently, playing the host with a suave assurance that was rather amusing and charming in him.

“Yes.  I’m very glad,” said Angus.  Let us give the show away:  he was being wilfully nice.  But he was quite glad; to be able to be so nice.  Anything to have a bit of life going:  especially a bit of pleased life.  He looked at Aaron’s comely, wine-warmed face with gratification.