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I shall not enter in detail into the nature of the charges pressed in certain cases, but confine myself to quoting the close of a peroration which would have done Demosthenes credit: "Meme le balayeur a tire un coup!" The individual in question mildly deprecated M. le Surveillant's opinion, while the audience roared and rocked with laughter of a somewhat ferocious sort.
A shut door indicated the existence of a being directly over the Surveillant's holy head. Upon this door, lest I should lose time in speculating, was in ample letters inscribed: GESTIONNAIRE I felt unutterably lost. I approached the door. I even started to push it. "Attends, Nom de Dieu."
I had, naturally, no money; but B. reassured me that before the day was over I should see the Gestionnaire and make arrangements for drawing on the supply of ready cash which the gendarmes who took me from Gre had confided to The Surveillant's care; eventually I could also draw on my account with Norton-Harjes in Paris; meantime he had quelques sous which might well go into chocolate and cigarettes.
A little farther out but I will say no more. You grow pale." "That is nothing. And the other man what of him?" "He was captured; but he is a young, athletic fellow, and in his fury at being retaken he snatched a surveillant's revolver and shot him dead. He was tried, condemned to death, and to-morrow at sunrise, as I said, will expiate his crime and folly."
I was at first somewhat startled by this eccentricity; but soon learned that with the exception of two or three, who formed the Surveillant's permanent staff and of whom the beefy one was a shining example, all the plantons were supposed to be unhealthy; they were indeed the disabled whom le gouvernement francais sent from time to time to La Ferte and similar institutions for a little outing, and as soon as they had recovered their health under these salubrious influences they were shipped back to do their bit for world-safety, democracy, freedom, etc., in the trenches.
A little room. The Directeur's office? Or The Surveillant's? Comfort. O yes, very, very comfortable. On my right a table. At the table three persons. Reminds me of Noyon a bit, not unpleasantly of course.
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