Now we come to the story of Jean's undoing, and may the gods which made
Jean le Negre give me grace to tell it as it was.
The trouble started with Lulu. One afternoon, shortly after the
telephoning, Jean was sick at heart and couldn't be induced either to
leave his couch or to utter a word. Everyone guessed the reason--Lulu had
left for another camp that morning. The _planton_ told Jean to come down
with the rest and get _soupe_. No answer. Was Jean sick? "_Oui_, me
seek." And steadfastly he refused to eat, till the disgusted _planton_
gave it up and locked Jean in alone. When we ascended after _la soupe_ we
found Jean as we had left him, stretched on his couch, big tears on his
cheeks. I asked him if I could do anything for him; he shook his head. We
offered him cigarettes--no, he did not wish to smoke. As B. and I went
away we heard him moaning to himself "Jawnee no see LooLoo no more." With
the exception of ourselves, the inhabitants of La Ferte Mace took Jean's
desolation as a great joke. Shouts of Lulu! rent the welkin on all sides.
Jean stood it for an hour; then he leaped up, furious; and demanded
(confronting the man from whose lips the cry had last issued)--"Feeneesh
LooLoo?" The latter coolly referred him to the man next to him; he in
turn to someone else; and round and round the room Jean stalked, seeking
the offender, followed by louder and louder shouts of Lulu! and Jawnee!
the authors of which (so soon as he challenged them) denied with innocent
faces their guilt and recommended that Jean look closer next time.
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