Et M'sieu' Jean, savez-vous, ils sont tous_"--leaning right in
my face, the withered hand making a pitiful fist of itself--"_ils. Sont.
Des. CRAPULES!_"
And his ghastly and toylike wizened and minute arm would try to make a
pass at their lofty lives. O _gouvernement francais_, I think it was not
very clever of you to put this terrible doll in La Ferte; I should have
left him in Belgium with his little doll-wife if I had been You; for when
governments are found dead there is always a little doll on top of them,
pulling and tweaking with his little hands to get back the microscopic
knife which sticks firmly in the quiet meat of their hearts.
One day only did I see him happy or nearly happy--when a Belgian baroness
for some reason arrived, and was bowed and fed and wined by the
delightfully respectful and perfectly behaved Official Captors--"and I
know of her in Belgium, she is a great lady, she is very powerful and she
is generous; I fell on my knees before her, and implored her in the name
of my wife and _Le Bon Dieu_ to intercede in my behalf; and she has made
a note of it, and she told me she would write the Belgian King and I will
be free in a few weeks, FREE!"
The little Machine-Fixer, I happen to know, did finally leave La
Ferte--for Precigne.
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