Tres bon. Tres bien fait_"--laughing with head thrown back and
teeth aglitter at his own success. John le Baigneur was so tremendously
amused that he gave up sleeping to watch. _L'armee_ drew a crowd of
admirers from every side. For at least three-quarters of an hour this
game went on....
Another day Jean, being angry at the weather and having eaten a huge
amount of _soupe_, began yelling at the top of his voice: "_MERDE a la
France_" and laughing heartily. No one paying especial attention to him,
he continued (happy in this new game with himself) for about fifteen
minutes. Then The Trick Raincoat (that undersized specimen, clad in
feminine-fitting raiment with flashy shoes, who was by trade a pimp,
being about half Jean's height and a tenth of his physique,) strolled up
to Jean--who had by this time got as far as my bed--and, sticking his
sallow face as near Jean's as the neck could reach, said in a solemn
voice: "_II ne faut pas dire ca._" Jean astounded, gazed at the intruder
for a moment; then demanded: "_Qui dit ca? Moi? Jean? Jamais, ja-MAIS.
MERDE a la France!_" nor would he yield a point, backed up as he was by
the moral support of everyone present except the Raincoat--who found
discretion the better part of valour and retired with a few dark threats;
leaving Jean master of the situation and yelling for the Raincoat's
particular delectation: "_MAY-RRR-DE a la France!_" more loudly than
ever.
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