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"You should have taken my advice and asked to go to Cannes," the fat Alsatian reproached me. He had indeed spent a great while advising me; but I trusted the little Machine-Fixer. "Parti?" Jean le Negre said with huge eyes, touching me gently. "No, no. Later, perhaps; not now," I assured him. And he patted my shoulder and smiled, "Bon!"
As a suspect I would be sent to some place in France, any place I wanted to go, provided it was not on or near the sea coast. That was in order that I should not perhaps try to escape from France. The Machine-Fixer had advised me to ask to go to Oloron Sainte Marie. I should say that, as a painter, the Pyrenees particularly appealed to me. "Et qu'il fait beau, la-bas! The snow on the mountains!
"Mais, M'sieu' Jean," the Machine-Fixer said trembling, "Vous savez elle est forte. She gave the six of them a fight, I tell you. But of course they succeeded in beating her up, six men upon one woman. She was beaten badly, I tell you, before she gave in.
And, the packing completed, we drank together for The Last Time. The Zulu and Jean Le Negre and the Machine-Fixer and B. and I and Pete The Shadow drifted over, whiter than I think I ever saw him, and said simply to me: "I'll take care o' your friend, Johnny."
For there are times when one almost decides not to merely observe ... besides which, never in my life before had I wanted to kill, to thoroughly extinguish and to entirely murder. Perhaps ... some day.... Unto God I hope so. Amen. Now I will try to give the reader a glimpse of the Women of La Ferte Mace. The little Machine-Fixer as I said in the preceding chapter, divided them into Good and Bad.
"Me voici" I said. "Put your ear to the key-hole, M'sieu' Jean," said the Machine-Fixer's voice. The voice of the little Machine-Fixer, tremendously excited. I obey "Alors. Qu'est-ce que c'est, mon ami?" "M'sieu' Jean! Le Directeur va vous appeler tout de suite! You must get ready instantly! Wash and shave, eh? He's going to call you right away. And don't forget! Oloron!
It was necessary, for its appeasement, that a shaft of bright lightning suddenly and entirely should wither the human and material structures which stood always between our filthy and pitiful selves and the unspeakable cleanness of Liberty. B. recalls that the little Machine-Fixer said or hinted that he had been either a socialist or an anarchist when he was young.
Lest which statement prejudice some members of the American Legion in disfavour of the Machine-Fixer or rather of myself awful thought I hasten to assure everyone that the Machine-Fixer was a highly moral person. His morality was at times almost gruesome; as when he got started on the inhabitants of the women's quarters.
Monsieur Auguste's valiant attempts at cheerfulness and the natural buoyancy of his gentle disposition in a slight degree protected him from La Misere. The Machine-Fixer was lost. By nature he was tremendously sensible, he was the very apotheosis of l'ame sensible in fact.
And God knows we did not only pity him, we liked him and if we could in some often ridiculous manner assist the Machine-Fixer I think we nearly always did. The assistance to which I refer was wholly spiritual; since the minute Machine-Fixer's colossal self-pride eliminated any possibility of material assistance.
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