Chapter 6 6

"At Aunt's" was a fancy little restaurant, and M. Juston Brentin was not a proprietor who liked to entertain all his customers.Many rich, beautiful, famous or well-known customers waited for him to give special services as a secret signal, but failed.Only in rare cases did M. Brendin welcome a visitor with civility, accompany him to a special seat, and chat with him locally. On this particular night, M. Brenting went to sea three times in person - once to receive a countess, once to a famous horse racing nobleman, and the third time to a funny-looking man with a big black beard. Shorty.The casual onlooker must think that this kind of character will not get a good look at the "Auntie's" restaurant based on his appearance.

M. Brundin, however, was somewhat unexpectedly enthusiastic about the short man's presence.The guest who came in for the last half hour could not find a vacant seat, but now, as if by magic, a group of tables and chairs appeared again, and were placed in the most comfortable place; This, on the seat. "Mr. Poirot, there is always room for you. I hope you will come to our shop often." Hercule Poirot smiled, and a vision of a past incident flashed through his mind: A dead body, a waiter, M. Brundin and a very nice lady. "You are too kind, Mr. Blunding," said Poirot.

"Mr. Poirot, are you alone?" "Yes, today I have an order." "Then Julius here will arrange an exquisite meal just for you, delicious like a poem-a real poem! No woman, no matter how charming, can't take the opportunity to taste food-they don't eat Concentrate! Monsieur Poirot, I assure you: this meal will leave you with an unforgettable memory. And as for the wine" the conversation about food and drink continued.Chef Julius of the restaurant is on the sidelines. Before leaving his seat, M. Brundin lingered a little longer; he said in a low voice: "You have something important to do?"

Poirot shook his head. "Why, I was idle," he said quietly. "My time is well organized, and right now I'm enjoying a life of idleness." "I envy you" "No, no, you're not wise to think so. I can assure you that this kind of thing sounds pleasant, but it's not." He sighed. "In order to avoid thinking, man had to invent work. That's true." M. Brundin held up his hands. "But how good is it to do things with your brain! And travel!" "Yes, travel. My grades aren't too bad. I'm going to Egypt this winter for a holiday. I've heard the weather is fine, without heavy, overcast clouds and monotonous, constant rain."

"Oh, Egypt!" M. Brundin took a breath. "I believe that there is now a place for mountaineering expeditions, too, besides the canals, by train, and not always by sea." "Oh Hai, you're not quite used to it?" Hercule Poirot shook his head and shrugged slightly. "Neither can I," said M. Brundin sympathetically. "Strange sea voyages always make your stomach sick." "But it's only for some people's stomachs! Some people don't care about the rocking of the boat at all, they enjoy the motion!" "It's God's injustice," M. Blundin said.

He shook his head sadly, and withdrew while thinking about his own thoughts. The waiter moved lightly and put the dishes on the table with his hands neatly, including crispy bread, butter, a bucket of ice cubes and other food. Black bands played eerie, dissonant and mesmerizing music.London is dancing. Hercule.Poirot watched in silence, feeding the impressions into his quick and methodical mind.How annoying these faces are!Still, the burly men seemed intoxicated... and their partners had a look of patience on their faces. The fat woman in purple is full of spring breeze... Fat people can undoubtedly get some compensation in life, and they are more intoxicated in fun and indulgence than curvy people.

There are a few young couples here and there, some are confused, some are irritable, and some are unhappy.It's nonsense to call youth a happy time—no, youth is the most vulnerable! When his gaze rested on a pair of special young people, his gaze softened a lot.What a perfect match—a tall, square-shouldered man, and a petite girl!Their bodies rose and fell to a beautiful, joyous rhythm, blissfully enjoying the place, the moment, and each other. Although the dance ends.The hands parted and closed again.After dancing the four dances, the young couple returned to their seats, next to Poirot.The girl sat down, and Poirot could see in detail the various expressions on her face.She was flushed with excitement, and smiled affectionately, spreading her smile to her companions as well.

There was something else in her eyes besides the smile.Hercule Poirot shook his head suspiciously. "She loves too much, the little girl," he said to himself. "It's not safe, very unsafe." Then a word came to his ears—"Egypt" and their voices became clearer—the girl's accent was young, fresh, fluent, gentle, and slightly foreign, and the man's was light, deep, and well-bred British accent. "I'm not delusional, Simon. I tell you Linna won't let us down!" "I might disappoint her." "Bullshit - this job is for you."

"In fact, I think so. I don't really doubt my ability. For you, I also want to do a good job." The girl smiled warmly, and the smile was indeed brimming with happiness. "We stay for three months—prove you won't be fired—and—" "And then I'll give you all I have in the world. That's it, okay?" "According to my plan, we're going to Egypt for our honeymoon. Fuck him for such an expensive trip! I've wanted to go to Egypt all my life. The Nile, the pyramids, and the sand." "Let's go on a tour together, Jackie. Together. Wouldn't that be great?" he said, without enthusiasm.

"I don't believe it. Would a trip to Egypt be as exciting for you as it is for me? Do you really care, as much as I do?" Her voice suddenly sharpened, her pupils dilated, almost frightened. The man quickly replied, "Stop thinking about it, Jackie." But the girl repeated: "I don't believe it." Then she shrugged. "Let's go dance." Hercule.Poirot murmured to himself: "'He who loves will be loved.' Yes, I don't believe it either."