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Updated: May 8, 2025
A moldly moldering molish voice, suggesting putrifying tracts and orifices, answers with a cob-webbish patience so far beyond despair as to be indescribable: "La soupe." "Well, the soup, I just gave it to you, Monsieur Savy." "Must have a little something else. My money is chez le directeur. Please take my money which is chez le directeur and give me anything else."
The song says Bon soir, Madame de la Lune.... I did not sing out loud, simply because the moon was like a mademoiselle, and I did not want to offend the moon. My friends: the silhouette and la lune, not counting Ca Pue, whom I regarded almost as a part of me. The next day. Promise to M. Savy. Whang. "My pencil?" "You don't need any pencil, you're going away." "When?" "Directly." "How directly?"
Suddenly I realize the indisputable grip of nature's humorous hand. One evidently stands on Ca Pue in such cases. Having finished, panting with stink, I tumble on the bed and consider my next move. The straw will do. Ouch, but it's Dirty. Several hours elapse.... Steps and fumble. Klang. Repetition of promise to Monsieur Savy, etc. Turnkeyish and turnkeyish. Identical expression.
Those coming made a left-handed turn at Savy, hugged the line of single railway as far as a crucifix at a cross-roads, and were then lost to distinct view amid the abject ruins of Holnon. Those going were the 32nd Division, whose march carried them out of the cathedral's eye or observation by German balloons.
"All right, the next time I come to see you to-day I'll bring you a salad, a nice salad, Monsieur." "Thank you, Monsieur," the voice moldered. Klang!! and says the turnkey-creature to somebody else; while turning the lock of Monsieur Savy's door; taking pains to raise his voice so that Monsieur Savy will not miss a single word through the slit over Monsieur Savy's whang-klang: "That old fool!
Then the beautiful tale was unfolded at length; how the three girls followed the bank of the Gave from the other side of the castle, and how they ended by finding themselves on the Ile du Chalet in front of the rock of Massabielle, from which they were only separated by the narrow stream diverted from the Gave, and used for working the mill of Savy.
"Oh, I'll accuse him right enough when the time comes," said Hervey in his coolest manner, "but the time isn't now. Savy! I am going to see the Don first and make sure of this reward." "Faugh!" cried Hope with disgust, "Blood-money!" "What of that? Ifs a man is a murderer he should be lynched." "My friend, Sir Frank Random, is no murderer."
"But I was saying about Savy O'Leary," again interposed Morris, "did you ever hear what he did?" But Blake would not allow his guest the privilege of another story. "If you encourage Morris," said he, "we shall never get our whist," and with that he rose from the table and walked away into the next room. They played high. Morris always played high if he could, for he made money by whist.
By the end of March the British line ran from a mile in front of Arras to the Havrincourt wood, some seven miles from Cambrai, and thence southwards to Savy, less than two miles from St. Quentin. Thence the French line ran to Moy on the Sambre canal, behind La Fère, which the Germans had flooded, and through the lower forest of St. Gobain to the plateau north-east of Soissons.
Holon-Selency, Francilly-Selency, Fayet and Villerete had fallen to our victorious troops, but the main attack was not yet. To obtain scenes of our men actually in the front line trenches facing the town, I made my way through Savy and Savy Wood, in which not a single tree was left standing by the Bosche.
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