Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/118

carefully knotted, and every day he flashed a new one. His well-groomed hair, blue-black in color, emphasized his pale face and his yellow, feline eyes whose mysterious glow irresistible. Lucien was the kind who won a woman easily- and lost her with even greater ease. His perpetual state of ecstasy affected the fair sex. It had happened with Jeanne, and later with Suzette. Even Anna found it difficult to avoid his magic. It was only Mary whom he left totally unmoved, With almost a touch of pride she exclaimed, "A Gentile couldn't get me excited."

"Pierre," Mary called, "I don't think you've made much of an impression on that bird there."

"To the devil!" growled Pierre, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "I completely forgot the most important catch of all. Tell me, Lucien," he raised his voice above the roar of the motors: "did you hear what we all decided?"

Lucien made no answer. Pierre dropped his hammer, put his hands on Lucien's shoulders, and shook him in a friendly manner.

"Well, my friend," he went on. "What do you say?"

"Just leave me alone," Lucien growled, and eased himself out of the other's grasp. "It's bad enough I'm dying of the heat here, just don't bother me with your foolish propaganda."

Pierre reddened, and looked at him in surprise.

"Propaganda!" He put his hand to his chest in astonishment.

"What else do you think it is?" Lucien shouted, stabbing him with his eyes.

For a while the two stared at each other, like two fighting cocks; then Lucien laughed.

"So far as I'm concerned," he said, "just get me next to