Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/297
at Monique and again turned his searching glance on Clavelle. As for Heinz, he was leaning forward over the table, looking with admiration at the breath-taking harmony of color which Monique had so artistically achieved in her makeup, her hair, and her attire.
"Which do you mean, Mademoiselle?" he said, when the other two resumed their interrupted conversation.
"There," she said, pointing to a lady with a dog in her lap. "That woman to the right of the door, I mean to the left. Isn't she, isn't she a howl, Herr Kluger?" She pursed her pretty lips, not losing her presence of mind for a moment, as she searched for a woman whose dress might justify her earlier exclamation. "Tell me, don't you think it comical to get oneself up in such screaming color combinations?" Her roving eye came to rest on a white-haired woman near the door. "Honestly, some people are so absurd it's all you can do to keep from laughing."
"A lady's laughter is always pleasant to hear, Mademoiselle," Heinz remarked, and took quite a sip from the glass of wine at his elbow.
Monique laughed, but there was a contemptuous note in her laughter. Her eyes, concealed behind the black lashes, sparkled like lakes at the foot of green hills. Her full round breasts, behind a discreet lace bodice, sent the blood to Heinz's cheeks.
Monique knew the effect her provocative curves had on men, and she made certain that her clothes would accentuate those parts which drew masculine eyes. The especially shiny powder she used was calculated to raise the temperature of young and old alike. Her success was evidenced in the fact that when her figure confronted the Nazi higher-ups, suspicion fled from their minds.
Danger had a strange fascination for Mademoiselle