She and Jacques had a wonderful time. The Creole food was divine and the wine flowed freely. They talked about their favorite operas and exchanged anecdotes about their experiences in the theater. Jacques was the soul of charm, and never missed an opportunity to excite Bella with a double entendre or a clever remark. By the time they walked out of Antoine's together, she was feeling lighthearted and slightly tipsy. In the balmy night air, they waited on the banquette for Jacques's carriage to appear. Feeling enthralled by him, she did not object when he took her hand. An old-time automobile clattered past in the street, its engine noisily throbbing. The conveyance appeared little more than an antique buggy on large wheels, with twin front lanterns gleaming brightly. Inside sat a couple in evening clothes. “Look!” she cried. “Is that what you call a horseless carriage?” “The spawn of the devil,” Jacques replied, grimacing at the acrid odor the vehicle's engine had left in the air.
