De suite._"
I protested mildly that I was dirty.
"_N'importe. Allez avec moi_," and down I went to the amazement of
everyone and the great amazement of myself. "By Jove! wait till he sees
me this time," I remarked half-audibly....
The Directeur said nothing when I entered.
The Directeur extended a piece of paper, which I read.
The Directeur said, with an attempt at amiability: "_Alors, vous allez
sortir._"
I looked at him in eleven-tenths of amazement. I was standing in the
bureau de Monsieur le Directeur du Camp de Triage de la Ferte Mace, Orne,
France, and holding in my hand a slip of paper which said that if there
was a man named Edward E. Cummings he should report immediately to the
American Embassy, Paris, and I had just heard the words:
"Well, you are going to leave."
Which words were pronounced in a voice so subdued, so constrained, so
mild, so altogether ingratiating, that I could not imagine to whom it
belonged. Surely not to the Fiend, to Apollyon, to the Prince of Hell, to
Satan, to Monsieur le Directeur du Camp de Triage de la Ferte Mace--
"Get ready. You will leave immediately."
Then I noticed the Surveillant. Upon his face I saw an almost smile. He
returned my gaze and remarked:
"_Uh-ah, uh-ah, Oui.
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