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On the opposite platform crowds of little men in blue with mustaches and long, soiled overcoats that reached almost to their feet were shouting and singing. Fuselli watched them with a faint disgust. "Gee, they got funny lookin' helmets, ain't they?" "They're the best fighters in the world," said Eisenstein, "not that that's sayin' much about a man."
"You are stronger than me," said Eisenstein, moving off. ''God, it's hell not to have a gun," muttered Meadville as he settled himself on the deck again. "D'ye know, sonny, I nearly cried when I found I was going to be in this damn medical corps? I enlisted for the tanks. This is the first time in my life I haven't had a gun. I even think I had one in my cradle." "That's funny," said Fuselli.
He thought of his friends, of Fuselli and Chrisfield and that funny little man Eisenstein. They seemed at home in this army life. They did not seem appalled by the loss of their liberty. But they had never lived in the glittering other world. Yet he could not feel the scorn of them he wanted to feel.
"The white-faced little kid who's clerk in that outfit that has the other end of the barracks?" "That's him," said Eisenstein. "I wish I could do something to help that kid. He just can't stand the discipline.... You ought to see him wince when the red-haired sergeant over there yells at him.... The kid looks sicker every day." "Well, he's got a good soft job: clerk," said Fuselli.
The lieutenant paused: "All I can say is if there is any such man in the company, he had better keep his mouth shut and be pretty damn careful what he writes home.... Dismissed!" He shouted the order grimly, as if it were the order for the execution of the offender. "That goddam skunk Eisenstein," said someone. The lieutenant heard it as he walked away.
For a minute he thought it was a goldfish in a bowl, but it was a light that flickered in the ceiling. "Hello, Fuselli," said Eisenstein. "Feel all right?" "Sure," said Fuselli with a thick voice. "Why shouldn't I?" "How did you find that house?" said Eisenstein seriously. "Hell, I don't know," muttered Fuselli. "I'm goin' to sleep." His mind was a jumble.
<b>EGNER, MARIE.</b> Pupil of Schindler in Vienna. She has exhibited her pictures at the exhibitions of the Vienna Water-Color Club. In 1890 an exquisite series of landscapes and flowers, in 1894 "A Mill in Upper Austria," in gouache, and in 1895 other work in the same medium, confirming previous impressions of her fine artistic ability. <b>EISENSTEIN, ROSA VON.</b> Born in Vienna, 1844.
We've got a good loot an' a good top- kicker, an' a damn good bunch o' fellers." "Our top-kicker was in here a few minutes ago," said Eisenstein. "He was?" asked Fuselli. "Where'd he go?" "Damned if I know." Yvonne and the French soldier were talking in low voices, laughing a little now and then.
"Versales," said Eisenstein. "That's where the kings of France used to live." The train started moving again slowly. On the platform stood the top sergeant. "How d'ye sleep," he shouted as the car passed him. "Say, Fuselli, better start some grub going." "All right, Sarge," said Fuselli. The sergeant ran back to the front of the car and climbed on.
Why, a fellow back in that rest camp told me that it took four or five days to get anywhere." "He was stuffing you," said Eisenstein. "They used to run the fastest trains in the world in France." "Not so fast as the 'Twentieth Century. Goddam, I'm a railroad man and I know." "I want five men to help me sort out the eats," said the top sergeant, coming suddenly out of the shadows.
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