When he had gone half way he turned around and stared at the scene – his wife and Catherine scolding and consoling as they stumbled here and there among the crowded furniture with articles of aid, and the despairing figure on the couch bleeding fluently and trying to spread a copy of ‘Town Tattle’ over the tapestry scenes of Versailles.
Shall we take one last look at the party? Yes, let’s. That last look – the chaos, the blood, the keening women, and through it all the unquenchable and wholly misguided instinct to maintain some semblance of class. Again I notice a callback for the first time, the reference to the tacky upholstery first seen on the introduction to the apartment. The whole scene and this last glance come together in a real and strikingly familiar summation, bleeding fluently.