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"You're lucky not to be there with him! Do you understand?" "With my friend I should be well content in prison!" I said evenly, trying to keep looking through him and into the wall behind his black, big, spidery body. "In God's Name, what a fool!" the Directeur bellowed furiously and the Surveillant remarked pacifyingly: "He loves his comrade too much, that's all."
No. 29. Le Chargé d'Affaires en France au Ministre des Affaires Etrangères. Paris, le 13/28 Juillet 1914. Le Directeur du Département Politique a déclaré qu'
In some way he had heard of Bertie's condemnation perhaps seen it posted up on a Red Placard and in his quiet assumption that whatever he did was right, had not waited for an official summons but had presented himself at the prison of Saint-Gilles and asked to see the Directeur.
Do you see? Stay as you are you cannot do better." "Very good, monsieur le directeur," said Topinard, much distressed. And in this way Schmucke lost the protector sent to him by fate, the one creature that shed a tear for Pons, the poor super for whose return he looked on the morrow. Next morning poor Schmucke awoke to a sense of his great and heavy loss. He looked round the empty rooms.
He leaned against the wall a moment, quite green; then recovering said faintly 'The Kitchen. The Directeur looked very nervous and shouted, trembling all over, 'Yes, indeed! We'll see the cook about this perfectly impossible coffee. I had no idea that my men were getting such coffee. It's abominable!
'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.
"What do you want to go there for?" the Directeur exploded threateningly. I explained that I was by profession an artist, and had always wanted to view the Pyrenees. "The environment of Oloron would be most stimulating to an artist " "Do you know it's near Spain?" he snapped, looking straight at me. I knew it was, and therefore replied with a carefully childish ignorance: "Spain? Indeed!
Also I am certain that Michael and Vivie made a pilgrimage to the prison of Saint-Gilles, and stood silently in the cell where Bertie Adams and Vivie had spent those terrible days of suspense and despair between April 6 and April 8, 1917; and that when they entered that other compartment of the prison where Edith Cavell had passed her last days before her execution, they listened with sympathetic reverence to the recital by the Directeur of verses from "l'Hymne d'Édith Cavell" as it is now called no other than the sad old poem of human sorrow, Abide with me; and that they appreciated to the full the warmth of Belgian feeling which has turned the cell of Edith Cavell into a Chapelle Ardente in perpetuity.
His being 'directeur' at that time to Madame Maintenon, seemed to be a good step toward those views.
If the all three of us identify the lost Alexander, then must they return 'im. Monsieur, I am uneasy. I have foreboding. But I go. What choice? We go in a taxi-cab to the Cats' House. The directeur is courteous and sympathetic. He has introduced us to the cat, and my 'eart 'as turned to water, for it is Alexander. Why has he not been destroyed? The directeur is speaking. I 'ear him in a dream.
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