When Pascale Auber is forced out of the airship of the evil Dr. Simpelstur, she finds herself rescued by a handsome Ruritanian diplomat, Theo von Hentzau. Pascale soon realizes that Theo is hiding something - something to do with the evil doctor, th...
The turning-over of tables is rarely considered acceptable in polite society. That said, it has one conspicuous point in its favour; it is extremely effective. The table-flipping resulted in an instantaneous uproar from the crowd, which dissolved into a fistfight. The bearded man swung a fist at Dantès, who ducked and dashed the contents of a cup of cold tea in the man's face. The man roared and lunged for him; two other men at the back of the room entered into a wrestling match. The woman next to me was pulling the hair of the woman on her other side. By the time the coffee house staff had descended the stairs to turn us out, there were porcelain mugs flying through the air, women shrieking, and brown spatters of tea and coffee on the white brick walls.
The whole affair struck me as childishly humorous. I rushed, laughing, out one of the double doors that faced the river, the bag containing my evening dress over my shoulder. As nobody else saw fit to exit with me, I sauntered alone along the grey cobbles to the flight of stairs near the bridge. I went up, arriving at street level. I was hoping to make my way to the ladies' swimming-baths on the other side of the river, to make use of their changing-rooms.
I was surprised to find I was not alone on the bridge. Indeed, a familiar figure was trudging ahead of me - Gabriel Dantès, now wearing a jacket with threadbare elbows and a navy blue mariner's cap.
"Comrade Dantès!" I called out, "How ever did you get ahead of me?"
He turned to face me, a small smile playing across his face. He had a bloody lip, but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear. "I am apparently troublesome enough to be worth carrying up the stairs to be tossed out at street level. I fear we may have to try a different meeting place, next week. At least my hat followed me, this time," he said, tapping the particular article.
"I imagine there will be no further socializing tonight, either," I said.
Dantès smile twisted ruefully. "No, unless certain individuals wish to assist each other with nursing their sore fists and black eyes. Ah well, I could not have gone tonight anyhow - I am scheduled to work."
"And here I pictured you spending all your waking hours working for your cause," I said, my tone light.
"Hardly," he said, snorting air out through his nose. "I don't have the time to sit around in drawing rooms thinking important thoughts about political theory. I work, or I don't eat."
"I think that is true of many people," I opined. Dantès shrugged.
We were across the river now, and I held my bag in both hands as I asked, "Someone will let me know where to come next week, though?" Observing and reporting on the actions of the WPA were one of my main tasks, and my boss would not like it if I missed a meeting.
"Once I know myself I will have the word spread among the interested. I just do not know - well. That is a question to be dealt with tomorrow. Good evening, Comrade." Dantès swept off his cap and, to my surprise, actually bowed like a gentleman.
I could not help but curtsy in return, and wish him a good night.
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