The Argentine finally began to look at Marie-Louise attentively. She smiled timidly at him. He didn't seem to notice the smile. The poor girl wondered how she would have dinner that evening.
The Argentine stood up and offered her to dance a tango. He had the accent, the accent of the South, the Argentine. He was from Agen!
But Southerners are often wine merchants. And Marie-Louise did not get discouraged. She danced the shimmy, she danced the fox-trot, she danced the hesitant waltz.
She danced whatever the Argentine wanted to dance, who was no longer Argentine but still a Southerner.
The two of them left the dance hall. And the man offered to have dinner with Marie-Louise. She accepted without hesitation. To inquire about her new companion's situation, she asked:
"Where are you taking me?"
He mentioned the name of a popular "bouillon" restaurant. She protested. Did he not know Paris then? Instantly, in Marie-Louise's mind, he went from the class of Argentines to the class of provincials.
"You, a rich man! A wine merchant! You're going to dine there!"
"But what makes you think I'm a wine merchant? I'm a hairdresser! A hair salon assistant!"
Marie-Louise thought that she would still have dinner that evening. And since the hairdresser had a way with words, he managed to keep her entertained until the next morning.
"All this for a dinner at the bouillon, my dear!" she concluded, laughing at her own misadventure.
IV
My visits to the small bar initially intrigued these ladies a lot. They were probably wondering which one of them the gentleman was interested in. As he didn't make a choice, they started to look offended.
