The Day, As I Was Pleased
To Note At The Time, Had Begun Mercifully To Draw To A Close; We
Were Driving Back To Paris, And He, Sitting On The Front Seat, Had
Just Attained The Highest Post In The Army Under The Regime Of The
Last Empire, When He Said:
"Behold, m'sieur!
We are now approaching a wine shop on the left.
You were most gracious and kind in the matter of luncheon. Kindly
permit me to do the honors now. It is a very good wine shop - I
know it well. Shall we stop for a glass together, eh?"
It was the first time since we landed at Calais that a native-born
person had offered to buy anything, and, being ever desirous to
assist in the celebration of any truly notable occasion, I
accepted and the car was stopped. We were at the portal of the
wine shop, when he plucked at my sleeve, offering another suggestion:
"The chauffeur now - he is a worthy fellow, that chauffeur. Shall
we not invite the chauffeur to join us?"
I was agreeable to that, too. So he called the chauffeur and the
chauffeur disentangled his whiskers from the steering gear and
came and joined us. The chauffeur and I each had a small glass
of light wine, but the general took brandy. Then ensued a spirited
dialogue between him and the woman who kept the shop. Assuming
that I had no interest in the matter, I studied the pictures
behind the bar.
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