I wouldn't do this for anyone else, you understand,"
and he smiled kindly; "but we've been prisoners together, and we
understand each other, and that's enough for gentlemen. I won't forget
you." He drew himself up. "I shall write," he said slowly and distinctly,
"to Vanderbilt about you. I shall tell him it's a dirty bloody shame that
you two young Americans, gentlemen born, should be in this foul place.
He's a man who's quick to act. He'll not tolerate a thing like this--an
outrage, a bloody outrage, upon two of his own countrymen. We shall see
what happens then."
It was during this period that Count Bragard lent us for our personal use
his greatest treasure, a water glass. "I don't need it," he said simply
and pathetically.
Now, as I have said, a change in our relations came.
It came at the close of one soggy, damp, raining afternoon. For this
entire hopeless grey afternoon Count Bragard and B. promenaded The
Enormous Room. Bragard wanted the money--for the whiskey and the paints.
The marmalade and the letter to Vanderbilt were, of course, gratis.
Bragard was leaving us. Now was the time to give him money for what we
wanted him to buy in Paris and London. I spent my time rushing about,
falling over things, upsetting people, making curious and secret signs to
B.
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