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At the time I gave neither an extraordinary nor a particular damn about Monsieur le Surveillant, nor indeed about "l'autre americain" alias myself. As for Afrique and The Cook there was nothing too good for me at this time. I asked the latter's permission to cut wood, and was not only accepted as a sawyer, but encouraged with assurances of the best coffee there was, with real sugar dedans.
The Directeur came down and sent them flying. The Surveillant and his plantons were as helpless as if they had been children. Monsieur Jean quelque chose." I gave him another match. "Merci, Monsieur Jean." He struck it, drew on his pipe, lowered it, and went on: "They were helpless, and men. I am little. I have only one arm, tu sais.
"Je ne le crois fas, Monsieur." "O God's name!" he shouted. "What a fool, quel idiot, what a beastly fool!" And he did something through his froth-covered lips, something remotely suggesting laughter. Hereupon the Surveillant again intervened. I was mistaken. It was lamentable. I could not be made to understand. Very true.
"Mais c'est pas la" he kept repeating stupidly. The Surveillant was uh-ahing at a great rate and attempting to pacify Jean in French. I myself was somewhat fearful for Jean's sanity and highly indignant at the planton. The matter ended with the planton's being sent about his business; simultaneously with Jean's dismissal to the cour, whither I accompanied him.
His mixed character of ambassador and of political surveillant, combined with the dependent state of the Kalmucks, gave him a real weight in the Tartar councils, and might have given him a far greater, had not his outrageous self-conceit, and his arrogant confidence in his own authority, as due chiefly to his personal qualities for command, led him into such harsh displays of power, and menaces so odious to the Tartar pride, as very soon made him an object of their profoundest malice.
His mixed character of ambassador and of political surveillant, combined with the dependent state of the Kalmucks, gave him a real weight in the Tartar councils, and might have given him a far greater, had not his outrageous self-conceit, and his arrogant confidence in his own authority, as due chiefly to his personal qualities for command, led him into such harsh displays of power, and menaces so odious to the Tartar pride, as very soon made him an object of their profoundest malice.
But the excellent and inimitable and altogether benignant French Government was not satisfied with its own generosity in presenting one merely with Precigne beyond that lurked a cauchemar called by the singularly poetic name: Isle de Groix. A man who went to Isle de Groix was done. As the Surveillant said to us all, leaning out of a littlish window, and to me personally upon occasion
Before I could utter a syllable the Surveillant raised his hand for silence: le negre had done wrong. He should be placed in the cabinot. Like a flash, with a horrible tearing sob, Jean leaped from the surrounding plantons and rushed for the coat which lay on his bed screaming "AHHHHH mon couteau!"
There are a lot of Jeans where I come from. You heard what he said? He is black, is he not, and gets no justice from you. You heard that. I saw the whole affair. He was attacked, he put up no resistance whatever, he was beaten by two cowards. He is no more to blame than I am." The Surveillant was waving his wand and cooing "Je comprends, je comprends, c'est malheureux."
'Be so good as to taste it, Monsieur le Directeur. 'I taste it? Why should I taste it? The coffee is perfectly good, plenty good for you men. This is ridiculous 'Why don't we all taste it? suggested the Surveillant ingratiatingly. 'Why, yes, said the Visitor mildly. 'Taste it? Of course not.
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