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Updated: May 8, 2025
Even such staid characters as Count Bragard set up a little bawling. Monsieur Pet-airs uttered a tiny aged crowing to my immense astonishment and delight. The dying, the sick, the ancient, the mutilated, made their contributions to the common pandemonium.
I have already told how Monsieur Pet-airs sat with the frantically weeping Wanderer writing letters, and sniffing with his big red nose, and saying from time to time: "Be a man, Demestre, don't cry, crying does no good." Monsieur Auguste was broken-hearted. We did our best to cheer him; we gave him a sort of Last Supper at our bedside, we heated some red wine in the tin cup and he drank with us.
Yet this was he, this was Monsieur Pet-airs Lui-Meme; and I enjoyed peculiarly making his complete acquaintance for the first and only time. May the Heavens prosper him! The next day The Wanderer appeared in the cour walking proudly in a shirt of solid vermilion. He kissed his wife excuse me, Monsieur Malvy, I should say the mother of his children crying very bitterly and suddenly.
With the exception of these enthusiastic watchers, the other captives evidenced vague amusement excepting Count Bragard who said with lofty disgust that it was "no better than a bloody knocking 'ouse, Mr. Cummings" and Monsieur Pet-airs whose annoyance amounted to agony. Of course these twain were, comparatively speaking, old men....
I seem to remember that he left in a rather Gottverdummerish condition. Such is ignorance. Poor Monsieur Pet-airs came out of the commission looking extraordinarily epate. Questioned, he averred that his penchant for inventing forcepumps had prejudiced ces messieurs in his disfavour; and shook his poor old head and sniffed hopelessly.
I had forgotten completely that B. and I after trying and failing to get William Blake had ordered and paid for the better-known William; the ordering and communicating in general being done with the collaboration of Monsieur Pet-airs.
I did some hasty drawings of Monsieur Pet-airs washing and rubbing his bald head with a great towel in the dawn. The R.A. caught me in the act and came over shortly after, saying, "Let me see them." "Very good, in fact, excellent," the R.A. smiled whimsically. "You have a real talent for caricature, Mr. Cummings, and you should exercise it. You really got Peters.
And let us, bowing our minds smoothly and darkly, repeat with Monsieur le Curee "toujours l'enfer...." The Wanderer was almost insane when he heard the judgment of la commission. And hereupon I must pay my respects to Monsieur Pet-airs; whom I had ever liked, but whose spirit I had not, up to the night preceding The Wanderer's departure, fully appreciated.
And Monsieur Pet-airs hoped there would be no more fights for a while. One might think that The Young Pole had learned a lesson. But no. In a few days he was up and about, as full of la blague as ever. The Zulu seemed at times almost worried about him. They spoke together in Polish frequently and on The Zulu's part earnestly.
Surplice was, as usual, very interested, enormously interested. So were we: for the names respectively belonged to Monsieur Auguste, Monsieur Pet-airs, The Wanderer, Surplice and The Spoonman. These men had been judged. These men were going to Precigne. These men would be prisoniers pour la duree de la guerre.
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