"It's shameful and sickening," says Marthereau.
"One would think it was the first time you'd had any of it!"
"And you, old gabbler," chides Barque, "that says prettily to the
wine-robber, 'Can't be helped, it's a military order'! Gad, old man,
you're not short of cheek!"
"What else could I do or say? We should have had to go into mourning
for our table and our wine. She could make us pay forty sous for the
wine, and we should have had it all the same, shouldn't we? Very
well, then, got to think ourselves jolly lucky. I'll admit I'd no
confidence, and I was afraid it was no go."
"I know; it's the same tale everywhere and always, but all the
same--"
"Damn the thieving natives, ah, oui! Some of 'em must be making
fortunes. Everybody can't go and get killed."
"Ah, the gallant people of the East!"
"Yes, and the gallant people of the North!"
"Who welcome us with open arms!"
"With open hands, yes--"
"I tell you," Marthereau says again, "it's a shame and it's
sickening."
"Shut it up--there's the she-beast coming back." We took a turn
round to quarters to announce our success, and then went shopping.
When we returned to our new dining-room, we were hustled by the
preparations for lunch. Barque had been to the rations distribution,
and had managed, thanks to personal relations with the cook (who was
a conscientious objector to fractional divisions), to secure the
potatoes and meat that formed the rations for all the fifteen men of
the squad.
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