Part 15 (1/2)
”It's a great life if you don't weaken,” murmured Fuselli automatically.
”But I'm beginnin' to weaken,” said Williams. ”Man, I'm homesick. I don't care who knows it. I wish I could get to the front and be done with it.”
”Say, have a heart. You need a drink,” said the top sergeant, banging his fist on the table. ”Say, mamselle, mame shows, mame shows!”
”I didn't know you could talk French, Sarge,” said Fuselli.
”French, h.e.l.l!” said the top sergeant. ”Williams is the boy can talk French.”
”Voulay vous couchay aveck moy.... That's all I know.”
Everybody laughed.
”Hey, mamzelle,” cried the top sergeant. ”Voulay vous couchay aveck moy?
We We, champagne.” Everybody laughed, uproariously.
The girl slapped his head good-naturedly.
At that moment a man stamped noisily into the cafe, a tall broad-shouldered man in a loose English tunic, who had a swinging swagger that made the gla.s.ses ring on all the tables. He was humming under his breath and there was a grin on his broad red face. He went up to the girl and pretended to kiss her, and she laughed and talked familiarly with him in French.
”There's wild Dan Cohan,” said the dark-haired sergeant. ”Say, Dan, Dan.”
”Here, yer honor.”
”Come over and have a drink. We're going to have some fizzy.”
”Never known to refuse.”
They made room for him on the bench.
”Well, I'm confined to barracks,” said Dan Cohan. ”Look at me!” He laughed and gave his head a curious swift jerk to one side. ”Compree?”
”Ain't ye scared they'll nab you?” said Fuselli.
”Nab me, h.e.l.l, they can't do nothin' to me. I've had three court-martials already and they're gettin' a fourth up on me.”
Dan Cohan pushed his head to one side and laughed. ”I got a friend. My old boss is captain, and he's goin' to fix it up. I used to alley around politics chez moy. Compree?”
The champagne came and Dan Cohan popped the cork up to the ceiling with dexterous red fingers.
”I was just wondering who was going to give me a drink,” he said. ”Ain't had any pay since Christ was a corporal. I've forgotten what it looks like.”
The champagne fizzed into the beer-gla.s.ses.
”This is the life,” said Fuselli.
”Ye're d.a.m.n right, buddy, if yer don't let them ride yer,” said Dan.
”What they got yer up for now, Dan?”
”Murder.”
”Murder, h.e.l.l! How's that?”