Chapter 35

           CatherinewentalongthelaketothelittlehoteltoseeFergusonandIsatinthebarandreadthepapers.TherewerecomfortableleatherchairsinthebarandIsatinoneofthemandreaduntilthebarmancamein.ThearmyhadnotstoodattheTagliamento.TheywerefallingbacktothePiave.IrememberedthePiave.TherailroadcrosseditnearSanDonagoinguptothefront.Itwasdeepandslowthereandquitenarrow.Downbelowthereweremosquitomarshesandcanals.Thereweresomelovelyvillas.Once,beforethewar,goinguptoCortinaD’AmpezzoIhadgonealongitforseveralhoursinthehills.Upthereitlookedlikeatroutstream,flowingswiftlywithshallowstretchesandpoolsundertheshadowoftherocks.TheroadturnedofffromitatCadore.Iwonderedhowthearmythatwasuptherewouldcomedown.Thebarmancamein.

           "CountGreffiwasaskingforyou,"hesaid.

           "Who?"

           "CountGreffi.Youremembertheoldmanwhowasherewhenyouwereherebefore."

           "Ishehere?"

           "Yes,he’sherewithhisniece.Itoldhimyouwerehere.Hewantsyoutoplaybilliards."

           "Whereishe?"

           "He’stakingawalk."

           "Howishe?"

           "He’syoungerthanever.Hedrankthreechampagnecocktailslastnightbeforedinner."

           "How’shisbilliardgame?"

           "Good.Hebeatme.WhenItoldhimyouwereherehewasverypleased.There’snobodyhereforhimtoplaywith."

           CountGreffiwasninety-fouryearsold.HehadbeenacontemporaryofMetternichandwasanoldmanwithwhitehairandmustacheandbeautifulmanners.