On the morrow we had an opportunity of going further
into the question; for when we rose very early to
avoid a sympathising deputation at our departure,
we found the hero up before us. He was breaking
his fast on white wine and raw onions, in order to
keep up the character of martyr, I conclude.
We had a long conversation, and made out what we wanted
in spite of his reserve. But here was a truly
curious circumstance. It seems possible for
two Scotsmen and a Frenchman to discuss during a long
half-hour, and each nationality have a different idea
in view throughout. It was not till the very
end that we discovered his heresy had been political,
or that he suspected our mistake. The terms and
spirit in which he spoke of his political beliefs
were, in our eyes, suited to religious beliefs.
And vice versa.
Nothing could be more characteristic of the two countries.
Politics are the religion of France; as Nanty Ewart
would have said, ‘A d-d bad religion’;
while we, at home, keep most of our bitterness for
little differences about a hymn-book, or a Hebrew
word which perhaps neither of the parties can translate.
And perhaps the misconception is typical of many
others that may never be cleared up: not only
between people of different race, but between those
of different sex.
As for our friend’s martyrdom, he was a Communist,
or perhaps only a Communard, which is a very different
thing; and had lost one or more situations in consequence.
I think he had also been rejected in marriage; but
perhaps he had a sentimental way of considering business
which deceived me. He was a mild, gentle creature,
anyway; and I hope he has got a better situation, and
married a more suitable wife since then.
DOWN THE OISE
TO MOY
Carnival notoriously cheated us at first. Finding
us easy in our ways, he regretted having let us off
so cheaply; and taking me aside, told me a cock-and-bull
story with the moral of another five francs for the
narrator. The thing was palpably absurd; but
I paid up, and at once dropped all friendliness of
manner, and kept him in his place as an inferior with
freezing British dignity. He saw in a moment
that he had gone too far, and killed a willing horse;
his face fell; I am sure he would have refunded if
he could only have thought of a decent pretext.
He wished me to drink with him, but I would none
of his drinks. He grew pathetically tender in
his professions; but I walked beside him in silence
or answered him in stately courtesies; and when we
got to the landing-place, passed the word in English
slang to the Cigarette.
