There were only three;--an old jeweller who had been visiting
his branch shops in America, and two demi-mondaines from the rue de
la Paix, the most timid and well-behaved persons aboard, vestals with
bright eyes and disdainful noses who held themselves stiffly aloof in
this uncongenial atmosphere.
At night there was a gala banquet in the dining room at the end of which
the French flag and that of the Empire formed a flaunting, conspicuous
drapery. All the German passengers were in dress suits, and their wives
were wearing low-necked gowns. The uniforms of the attendants were as
resplendent as on a day of a grand review.
During dessert the tapping of a knife upon a glass reduced the table
to sudden silence. The Commandant was going to speak. And this brave
mariner who united to his nautical functions the obligation of making
harangues at banquets and opening the dance with the lady of most
importance, began unrolling a string of words like the noise of clappers
between long intervals of silence. Desnoyers knew a little German as
a souvenir of a visit to some relatives in Berlin, and so was able
to catch a few words. The Commandant was repeating every few minutes
"peace" and "friends." A table neighbor, a commercial commissioner,
offered his services as interpreter to Julio, with that obsequiousness
which lives on advertisement.
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