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appeared (there was some complicated explanation)
that the Jew owed Boris three hundred francs, and
was repaying this by letting him sleep on the floor and
allowing him two francs a day for food. Two francs
would buy a bowl of coffee and three rolls. The Jew
went to work at seven in the mornings, and after that
Boris would leave his sleepingplace (it was beneath the
skylight, which let in the rain) and get into the bed. He
could not sleep much even there owing to the bugs,
but it rested his back after the floor.
It was a great disappointment, when I had come to
Boris for help, to find him even worse off than myself. I
explained that I had only about sixty francs left and
must get a job immediately. By this time, however,
Boris had eaten the rest of the bread and was feeling
cheerful and talkative. He said carelessly:
"Good heavens, what are you worrying about? Sixty
francs-why, it's a fortune! Please hand me that shoe,
mon ami. I'm going to smash some of those bugs if they
come within reach."
"But do you think there's any chance of getting a
job?"
"Chance? It's a certainty. In fact, I have got some-
thing already. There is a new Russian restaurant which
is to open in a few days in the Rue du Commerce. It is
une chose entendue
that I am to be
maitre d'hôtel. I can
easily get you a job in the kitchen. Five hundred francs
a month and your food-tips, too, if you are lucky."
"But in the meantime? I've got to pay my rent before
long."
"Oh, we shall find something. I have got a few cards
up my sleeve. There are people who owe me money, for
"instance-Paris is full of them. One of them is bound to
pay up before long. Then think of all the women who
have been my mistress! A woman never forgets, you
know-I have only to ask and they will help me. 'Besides,
the Jew tells me he is going to steal some magnetos
from the garage where he works, and he will pay us five
francs a day to clean them before he sells them. That
alone would keep us. Never worry, mon ami. Nothing is
easier to get than money."
"Well, let's go out now and look for a job."
"Presently, mon ami. We shan't starve, don't you fear.
This is only the fortune of war-I've been in a worse hole
scores of times. It's only a question of persisting.
Remember Foch's maxim: '
Attaquez! Attaquez! Attaquez!' "
It was midday before Boris decided to get up. All the
clothes he now had left were one suit, with one shirt,
collar and tie, a pair of shoes almost worn out, and a
pair of socks all holes. He had also an overcoat which
was to be pawned in the last extremity. He had
a suitcase, a wretched twenty-franc carboard thing, but
very important, because the
patron of the hotel believed
that it was full of clothes-without that, he would
probably have turned Boris out of doors. What it
actually contained were the medals and photographs,
various odds and ends, and huge bundles of loveletters.
In spite of all this Boris managed to keep a fairly smart
appearance. He shaved without soap and with a razor-
blade two months old, tied his tie so that the holes did
not show, and carefully stuffed the soles of his shoes
with newspaper. Finally, when he was dressed, he
produced an ink-bottle and inked the skin of his ankles
where it showed through his socks. You would never
have thought, when it was finished, that he had recently
been sleeping under the Seine bridges.
We went to a small café off the Rue de Rivoli, a well-
known rendezvous of hotel managers and employees. At
the back was a, dark, cave-like room where all kinds of
hotel workers were sitting-smart young waiters, others
not so smart and clearly hungry, fat pink cooks, greasy
dishwashers, battered old scrubbing-women. Everyone
had an untouched glass of black coffee in front of him.
The place was, in effect, an employment bureau, and the
money spent on drinks was the patron's commission.
Sometimes a stout, importantlooking man, obviously a
restaurateur, would come in and speak to the barman,
and the barman would call to one of the people at the
back of the café. But he never called to Boris or me, and
we left after two hours, as the etiquette was that you
could only stay two hours for one drink. We learned
afterwards, when it was too late, that the dodge was to
bribe the barman; if you could afford twenty francs he
would generally get you a job.
We went to the Hôtel Scribe and waited an hour on
the pavement, hoping that the manager would come
out, but he never did. Then we dragged ourselves down
to the Rue du Commerce, only to find that the new
restaurant, which was being redecorated, was shut up
and the
patron away. It was now night. We had walked
fourteen kilometres over pavement, and we were so
tired that we had to waste one franc-fifty on going
home by Metro. Walking was agony to Boris with his game
leg,
and his optimism wore thinner and thinner as the day
went on. When he got out of the Metro at the Place
d'Italie he was in despair. He began to say that it was
no use looking for work-there was nothing for it but to
try crime.
"Sooner rob than starve,
mon ami. I have often
planned it. A fat, rich American-some dark corner
down Montparnasse way-a cobblestone in a stocking -
bang! And then go through his pockets and bolt. It is
feasible, do you not think? I would not flinch-I have
been a soldier, remember."
He decided against the plan in the end, because we
were both foreigners and easily recognised.
When we had got back to my room we spent another
one franc-fifty on bread and chocolate. Boris devoured
his share, and at once cheered up like magic; food
seemed to act on his system as rapidly as a cocktail. He
took out a pencil and began making a list of the people
who would probably give us jobs. There were dozens
of them, he said.
"To-morrow we shall find something,
mon ami, I
know it in my bones. The luck always changes. Besides,
we both have brains-a man with brains can't starve.
"What things a man can do with brains! Brains will =-
make money out of anything. I had a friend once, a
Pole, a real man of genius; and what do you think he
used to do? He would buy a gold ring and pawn it for
fifteen francs. Then-you know how carelessly the clerks
fill up the tickets-where the clerk had written ' en or' he
would add '
et diamants' and he would change 'fifteen
francs' to 'fifteen thousand.' Neat, eh? Then, you see,
he could borrow a thousand francs on the security of the
ticket. That is what I mean by brains . . ."
For the rest of the evening Boris was in a hopeful
mood, talking of the times we should have together
when we were waiters together at Nice or Biarritz, with
smart rooms and enough money to set up mistresses. He
was too tired to walk the three kilometres back to his
hotel, and slept the night on the floor of my room, with
his coat rolled round his shoes for a pillow.
VI
WE again failed to find work the next day, and it was
three weeks before the luck changed. My two hundred
francs saved me from trouble about the rent, but
everything else went as badly as possible. Day after day
Boris and I went up and down Paris, drifting at two
miles an hour through the crowds, bored and hungry,
and finding nothing. One day, I remember, we crossed
the Seine eleven times. We loitered for hours outside
service doorways, and when the manager came out we
would go up to him ingratiatingly, cap in hand. We
always got the same answer: they did not want a lame
man, nor a man without experience. Once we were very
nearly engaged. While we spoke to the manager Boris
stood straight upright, not supporting himself with his
stick, and the manager did not see that he was lame.
"Yes," he said, "we want two men in the cellars.
Perhaps you would do. Come inside." Then Boris
moved, the game was up. « Ah, » said the manager,
"you limp.
Malheureusement---
"
We enrolled our names at agencies and answered
advertisements,_ but walking everywhere made us
slow, and we seemed to miss every job by half an
hour. Once we very nearly got a job swabbing out
railway trucks, but at the last moment they rejected us
in favour of Frenchmen. Once we answered an
advertisement calling for hands at a circus. You had to
shift benches and clean up litter, and, during the
performance, stand on two tubs and let a lion jump
through your legs. When we got to the place, an hour
before the time named, we found a queue of fifty men
already waiting. There is some attraction in lions,
evidently.
Once an agency to which I had applied months
earlier sent me a
petit bleu, telling me of an Italian
gentleman who wanted English lessons. The
petit bleu
said "Come at once" and promised twenty francs an
hour. Boris and I were in despair. Here was a splendid
chance, and I could not take it, for it was impossible to
go to the agency with my coat out at the elbow. Then it
occurred to us that I could wear Boris's coat-it did did
not match my trousers, but the trousers were grey and
might pass for flannel at a short distance. The coat was
so much too big for me that I had to wear it unbuttoned
and keep one hand in my pocket. I hurried out, and
wasted seventy-five centimes on a bus fare to get to the
agency. When I got there I found that the Italian had
changed his mind and left Paris.
Once Boris suggested that I should go to Les Halles
and try for a job as a porter. I arrived at half-past four
the morning, when the work was getting into its swing.
Seeing a short, fat man in a bowler hat directing some
porters, I went up to him and asked for work.
Before answering he seized my right hand and felt the palm.
"You are strong, eh?" he said.
"Very strong," I said untruly.
"
Bien. Let me see you lift that crate."
It was a huge wicker basket full of potatoes. I took
hold of it, and found that, so far from lifting it, I could
not even move it. The man in the bowler hat watched
me, then shrugged his shoulders and turned away. I
made off When I had gone some distance I looked
back and saw
four men lifting the basket on to a cart.
It weighed three hundredweight, possibly. The man
had seen that I was no use, and taken this way of
getting rid of me.
Sometimes in his hopeful moments Boris spent
fifty centimes on a stamp and wrote to one of his ex-
mistresses, asking for money. Only one of them ever
replied. It was a woman who, besides having been
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