“Doesn’t he look fine, altogether French?” she said.
Rosaline turned away without answering. A little later she picked up the perch and carried the parrot, that swayed sleepily on the crosspiece, down the ladder.
“Les bourgeois à la lanterne, nom de dieu!” came the old man’s voice singing on the shore.
“He’s drunk as a pig,” muttered the old woman. “If only he doesn’t fall off the gang plank.”
A swaying shadow appeared at the end of the plank, standing out against the haze of light from the houses behind the poplar trees.
Andrews put out a hand to catch him as he reached the side of the barge. The old man sprawled against the cabin.
“Don’t bawl me out, dearie,” he said, dangling an arm round Andrews’s neck, and a hand beckoning vaguely towards his wife. “I’ve found a comrade for the little American.”
“What’s that?” said Andrews sharply. His mouth suddenly went dry with terror. He felt his nails pressing into the palms of his cold hands.
“I’ve found another American for you,” said the old man in an important voice. “Here he comes.” Another shadow appeared at the end of the gangplank.
“Les bourgeois à la lanterns, nom de dieu!” shouted the old man. Andrews backed away cautiously towards the other side of the barge. All the little muscles of his thighs were trembling. A hard voice was saying in his head: “Drown yourself, drown yourself. Then they won’t get you.”
The man was standing on the end of the plank. Andrews could see the contour of the uniform against the haze of light behind the poplar trees.
“God, if I only had a pistol,” he thought.
“Say, Buddy, where are you?” came an American voice.
The man advanced towards him across the deck.
Andrews stood with every muscle taut.
“Gee! You’ve taken off your uniform… Say, I’m not an M.P. I’m A.W.O.L. too. Shake.” He held out his hand.
Andrews took the hand doubtfully, without moving from the edge of the barge.
“Say, Buddy, it’s a damn fool thing to take off your uniform. Ain’t you got any? If they pick you up like that it’s life, Kid.”
“I can’t help it. It’s done now.”
“Gawd, you still think I’m an M.P., don’t yer?… I swear I ain’t. Maybe you are. Gawd, it’s hell, this life. A feller can’t put his trust in nobody.”
“What division are you from?”
“Hell, I came to warn you this bastard frawg’s got soused an’ has been blabbin’ in the gin mill there how he was an anarchist an’ all that, an’ how he had an American deserter who was an anarchist an’ all that, an’ I said to myself: ‘That guy’ll git nabbed if he ain’t careful,’ so I cottoned up to the old frawg an’ said I’d go with him to see the camarade, an’ I think we’d better both of us make tracks out o’ this berg.”
“It’s damn decent. I’m sorry I was so suspicious. I was scared green when I first saw you.”
“You were goddam right to be. But why did yous take yer uniform off?”
“Come along, let’s beat it. I’ll tell you about that.”
Andrews shook hands with the old man and the old woman Rosaline had disappeared. “Goodnight… Thank you,” he said, and followed the other man across the gangplank.
As they walked away along the road they heard the old man’s voice roaring:
“Les bourgeois à la lanterne, nom de dieu!”
“My name’s Eddy Chambers,” said the American.
“Mine’s John Andrews.”
“How long’ve you been out?”
“Two days.”
Eddy let the air out through his teeth in a whistle.
“I got away from a labor battalion in Paris. They’d picked me up in Chartres without a pass.”
“Gee, I’ve been out a month an’ more. Was you infantry too?”
“Yes. I was in the School Detachment in Paris when I was picked up. But I never could get word to them. They just put me to work without a trial. Ever been in a labor battalion?”
“No, thank Gawd, they ain’t got my number yet.”
They were walking fast along a straight road across a plain under a clear star-powdered sky.
“I been out eight weeks yesterday. What’d you think o’ that?” said Eddy.
“Must have had plenty of money to go on.”
“I’ve been flat fifteen days.”
“How d’you work it?”
“I dunno. I juss work it though… Ye see, it was this way. The gang I was with went home when I was in hauspital, and the damn skunks put me in class A and was goin to send me to the Army of Occupation. Gawd, it made me sick, goin’ out to a new outfit where I didn’t know anybody, an’ all the rest of my bunch home walkin’ down Water Street with brass bands an’ reception committees an’ girls throwing kisses at ’em an’ all that. Where are yous goin’?”
“Paris.”
“Gee, I wouldn’t. Risky.”
“But I’ve got friends there. I can get hold of some money.”
“Looks like I hadn’t got a friend in the world. I wish I’d gone to that goddam outfit now… I ought to have been in the engineers all the time, anyway.”
“What did you do at home?”
“Carpenter.”
“But gosh, man, with a trade like that you can always make a living anywhere.”
“You’re goddam right, I could, but a guy has to live underground, like a rabbit, at this game. If I could git to a country where I could walk around like a man, I wouldn’t give a damn what happened. If the army ever moves out of here an’ the goddam M.P.’s, I’ll set up in business in one of these here little towns. I can parlee pretty well. I’d juss as soon marry a French girl an’ git to be a regular frawg myself. After the raw deal they’ve given me in the army, I don’t want to have nothin’ more to do with their damn country. Democracy!”
He cleared his throat and spat angrily on the road before him.
They walked on silently. Andrews was looking at the sky, picking out constellations he knew among the glittering masses of stars.
“Why don’t you try Spain or Italy?” he said after a while.
“Don’t know the lingo. No, I’m going to Scotland.”
“But how can you get there?”
“Crossing on the car ferries to England from Havre. I’ve talked to guys has done it.”
“But what’ll you do when you do get there?”
“How should I know? Live around best I can. What can a feller do when he don’t dare show his face in the street?”
“Anyway, it makes you feel as if you had some guts in you to be out on your own this way,” cried Andrews boisterously.
“Wait till you’ve been at it two months, boy, and you’ll think what I’m tellin’ yer… The army’s hell when you’re in it; but it’s a hell of a lot worse when you’re out of it, at the wrong end.”
“It’s a great night, anyway,” said Andrews. “Looks like we ought to be findin’ a haystack to sleep in.”
“It’ld be different,” burst out Andrews, suddenly, “if I didn’t have friends here.”
“O, you’ve met up with a girl, have you?” asked Eddy ironically.
“Yes. The thing is we really get along together, besides all the rest.”
Eddy snorted.
“I bet you ain’t ever even kissed her,” he said. “Gee, I’ve had buddies has met up with that friendly kind. I know a guy married one, an’ found out after two weeks.
“It’s silly to talk about it. I can’t explain it… It gives you confidence in anything to feel there’s someone who’ll always understand anything you do.”
“I s’pose you’re goin’ to git married.”
“I don’t see why. That would spoil everything.”