Nevertheless, the evening he found himself seated between Lucie Belhomme and Claudie de Belzunce in front of a bottle of too-sweet champagne, Henri suddenly thought in astonishment, 'What am I doing here?' He liked neither the champagne, nor the crystal chandeliers, the mirrors, the velvet covering of the chairs, nor those women who so abundantly displayed their tired skin. He liked neither Lucie, nor Dudule, nor Claudie, nor Vernon, nor the ageing young actor who was said to be his lover.