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They get their bidons filled. Wish I had a bidon, a dis-donc bidon n'est-ce pas. Faut pas t'en faire, who sang or said that? PEE-p.... We're off. I am almost asleep. Or myself. What's the matter here? Sardines writhing about, cut it out, no room for that sort of thing. Jolt. "Paris." Morning. Morning in Paris.
The gendarmes dozed, one at each door. The train rushed lazily across the earth, between farmhouses, into fields, along woods ... the sunlight smacked my eye and cuffed my sleepy mind with colour. I was awakened by a noise of eating. My protectors, knife in hand, were consuming their meat and bread, occasionally tilting their bidons on high and absorbing the thin streams which spurted therefrom.
I made no preparations, save to fill up with petrol and put all the spare bidons sent by the Austrian Lloyd in the tonneau. I was in flannels, as the day was not to be a motoring day, and I wouldn't have delayed even long enough to fetch my big coat, if I hadn't suddenly thought that I might be glad of it for Her.
"Paradise!" growled Pere Matou. "Ouf! Who wants that? If one had a few bidons of brandy, now " "Brandy? Oh, ha! you are to be much more of aristocrats now than that!" cried Cigarette, with an immeasurable satire curling on her rosy piquant lips. "The Silver Pheasants have taken to patronize you.
It was not only the lawn which was thus invaded; for there being in the courtyard a deep well of deliciously cold water, the soldiers were not slow to find their way to it, and after quenching their thirst and filling up their bidons, they stretched themselves at full length upon the ground wherever there was shade, either from tree or wall.
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