‘C’est tout?’

‘Je ne puis pas traduire ce qu’il y a de plus important, mademoiselle: les choses qu’il n’a pas voulu écrire.’

‘Comme vous avez le coeur bon, monsieur! Mais vraiment, il était comme ça. Il aimait flairer dans mes cheveux tout comme un petit chien.’

She tucked the letter away into that place of secrets, and lifted her hand again, to caress the beloved hair. Suddenly he became acutely jealous of this other man. He stooped, and picked up her basket.

‘Ah, mais non, monsieur!’ she protested. ‘C’est pas permis qu’un soldat anglais porte un panier dans les rues. C’est absolument défendu. Je le sais bien. Il m’a dit toujours, que c’était défendu.’

‘Had he?’ thought Bourne, and tightened his grip on the handle of it.

‘Je porterai le panier, mademoiselle,’ he said quietly.

‘Mais pourquoi … ?’ she asked anxiously.

‘Parcequ’apparemment, mademoiselle, c’est mon métier,’ he said with an ironic appreciation of the fact. She looked at him with troubled eyes.

‘Vous voulez bien m’aider à écrire cette petite lettre, monsieur?’

‘Mademoiselle, je ferai tout ce que je puis pour vous servir.’

She suddenly relapsed into anxious silence.

X

Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee? Not to be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to her: that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.

SHAKESPEARE

‘WAS I drunk last night?’ Martlow inquired. He threw off his blanket, and, leaning on his left hand, drew up his naked legs so that he could rub them with his right.

‘Well, if you can’t answer the question for yourself, you must have been,’ said Shem, reasonably. ‘There’s some tea there.’

‘I’ve got a bit of a fat ’ead,’ said Martlow, taking up the mess-tin; ‘an’ me mouth tastes of the bloody blanket. It’s a bon place, this; I could stay ’ere for the duration. Where’s ol’ Bourne?’

‘He’s outside, shaving.’

‘’e were in a good skin last night. I like ol’ Bourne when you get ’im like that, spinnin’ out all them little ditties. ’ow did you like that one about the young man courtin’ ’is pusher upstairs with the window open, and Sergeant Thomas knockin’ at the front door o’ the ’ouse in Mil’arbour, at eleven o’clock one night, an’ askin’ the old woman to take ’er grandchild off ’is new ’at? Beats me ’ow folk think o’ some o’ these things.’

‘You couldn’t have been very drunk if you can remember all that,’ said Shem.

‘I felt a bit funny when we got into the street,’ Martlow admitted, and he turned his head towards the doorway as Bourne came in. ‘’ere, Bourne, was I bloody drunk last night?’