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Updated: April 30, 2025
When the planton announced la soupe, a fiercely weary face strode by me en route to his mattress and his spoon. I knew that B. had been careful. A minute later he joined me, and told me as much.... On the way downstairs we ran into the Surveillant. Bragard stepped from the ranks and poured upon the Surveillant a torrent of French, of which the substance was: you told them not to give me anything.
She had previously written three times, handing the letters to the Surveillant, as per regulations, and had received no reply. Fritz, who had no idea why he was arrested and was crazy to get in touch with his embassy, had likewise written several letters, taking the utmost care to state the facts only and always handing them in; but he had never received a word in return.
"You are not prisoners. Oh, no. No indeed, I should say not. Prisoners are not treated like this. You are lucky." I had de la chance all right, but that was something which the pauvre M. Surveillant wot altogether not of. As for my fellow-prisoners, I am sorry to say that he was it seems to my humble personality quite wrong. For who was eligible to La Ferte?
You ought to be extraordinarily thankful and particularly happy!" "I should rather have gone to prison with my friend," I stated briefly; and went into the dining-room, leaving the Surveillant uh-ahing in nothing short of complete amazement. I really believe that my condition worried him, incredible as this may seem.
The gnome immediately kneeled upon it and fell to carefully smoothing certain creases caused by the recent conflict, exclaiming slowly syllable by syllable: "Mon Dieu. Now, that's better, you mustn't do things like that." I was still answering questions, when a gnarled voice suddenly threatened, over our head: "Broom? You. Everybody. Clean. Surveillant says. Not me, no?"
At least the Surveillant let me alone on the Soi-Meme topic. After my brief visit to Satan I wallowed in a perfect luxury of dirt. And no one objected. And my fine friends, being my fine friends, understood.
It's very pretty, you know." But about the syphilitics at La Ferte: they were, somewhat tardily to be sure, segregated in a very small and dirty room for a matter of, perhaps, two weeks. And the Surveillant actually saw to it that during this period they ate la soupe out of individual china bowls.
M'sieu' Jean, ils sont tous les plantons et le Directeur Lui-Meme et le Surveillant et le Gestionnaire et tous ils sont des " and he said very nicely what they were, and lit his little black pipe with a crisp curving upward gesture, and shook like a blade of grass.
It is impossible all this dirt and these filthy people it stinks! Ugh!" I forced myself to say: "How did you happen to come here?" He shrugged his shoulders. "How indeed, you may well ask! I cannot tell you. It must have been some hideous mistake. As soon as I got here I spoke to the Directeur and to the Surveillant.
I wish I had another of Mexique out in le jardin with a man who worked there who was a Spaniard, and whom the Surveillant had considerately allowed Mexique to assist; with the perfectly correct idea that it would be pleasant for Mexique to talk to someone who could speak Spanish if not as well as he, Mexique, could, at least passably well.
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