Part 8 (1/2)
”But it would be your third, too!”
”I know it, but I saw its merits first. So, I get a discoverer's third as a reward. Feel a lot better, don't you, John?”
”I feel like a general now. Where did you learn such good, every-day English.”
”Studied it ten years at school, and then I lived two years in that great, splendid unkempt country of yours. Mind your step! Good-by, little girl, good-by! We must get the men higher up! Tariff for Revenue only! Hurrah for the G.o.ddess of Liberty! Our glorious American eagle bathes one wing in Lake Superior and the other in the Gulf of Mexico!
Our foreign commerce would be larger if it were not for our grape-juice diplomacy! Now for the Maxixe and the Hesitation all at the same time!”
He sprang from his chair and whirled and jerked about the room in a kind of wild Apache dance. John laughed until his eyes grew wet.
”You've been there,” he said, as Lannes sat down again, panting. ”You've proved it, and I no longer wonder at your fine colloquial English.”
”I like your country and I like you Americans,” said Lannes seriously.
”You are the favorite children of the world, and I say children purposely, because you are children. You think you are terribly wicked, but you're not wicked at all. You're mere amateurs in vice compared with the h.o.a.ry and sinful nations of Europe. We're more quiet about it, but we practice tricks that you never dream of. We've made you think you're dollar-wors.h.i.+pers, but while the dollars are dropping through your fingers, John, we're hanging on to the francs, and marks, and s.h.i.+llings, and rubles and gulden and pesos and kronen with a grasp that death itself often fails to break.”
John did not know whether to be pleased or displeased, but finally concluded to be pleased.
”Perhaps you're telling the truth,” he said.
”I know I am. But here comes Madame Crocheville for the dishes. She will also say: 'Good night my wild and reckless but gallant Philip, and the same to you young American stranger.'”
”How do you know?”
”Never mind how I know. I know.”
Madame Crocheville came in and she looked at the two with satisfaction.
Their appearance had improved greatly under the ministrations of her good food and drink. She put the dishes on her tray and went to the door. When she had turned the key she looked back and said:
”Good night, my wild and reckless but gallant Philip, and the same to you, young American stranger.”
Then she went out, closed the door, and the two heard the big key turning again in the lock. The young Frenchman looked at the young American and smiled in content.
”How did you know so exactly?” asked John.
”Just call it an uncommonly accurate guess. Now, I think I'll put out the lamp. The light from the window is sufficient for us, and we don't want to take any unnecessary risk.”
He blew out the light, but John went to the window, and looked out on the tiny court or place, on the far side of which ran a street so narrow that it would have been called an alley at home.
He could not see much owing to the thick darkness, and it had begun to rain also. The air was chill and heavy with damp. John s.h.i.+vered. Fate had played him a weird trick by causing him to lose his train, but she had atoned for it partly by giving him this brave young Frenchman as a comrade. It was wonderfully snug and comfortable in the house of Madame Crocheville, called by her fellow townsmen and townswomen Frau Krochburg.
”I'm glad it's not a part of your plan for us to escape tonight, Philip,” he said.
”And what's the cause of your gladness.”
”It's raining, and it's as cold as winter. I like this place, and I think I'll go to bed.”
”A good plan. Everything is ready for us.”