35.
And in a flash I thought of brave Father Lemboîté, whom at that hour I was almost certain to find at his little restaurant. On my way there I said to myself that a fellow like him, who turns the words over in his mouth before letting them out, had to be a philosophical man of sound reasoning. As I hoped, he was at the restaurant. Once I had given him my apology for the happenings of the day before, I showed him my R, A, L, E, etc. "Follow me here," I told him. "Don't worry about the first part. Madame has worked that out. It means Réservistes Arthritiques, labourieux et patriotes. But the rest? Do you have any idea about the rest?" "Let's look at it," he said, adjusting his spectacles. "It's a matter of having the electricity running through your block, and to steer straight down the track to a solution."
He worked at it for a while in pencil, and then reported, "I believe I'm there. Look at what I've found: Réservistes Arthritiques, labourieux et patriotes. E: encore. U: utilisables. P: pour. P: paver. S: station. T: tramways. Young Bécassine, you're to be something like the corporal of a squad of reservist-arthritic-pavers." The proprietress was listening to us, and, as she was in good humour, she congratulated Lemboîté. He was pleased. He puffed up, and, in a jokey manner, called me "my corporal" and gave me a military salute.
To top it off, Virginie showed up. She often comes to eat at that little restaurant. I said we should ask her if she thought I was going to be a corporal-arthritic-paver. "Don't bother her about that," said Lemboîté. "It's a sure thing." But I wanted to get the opinion of my good Virginie, who is a very capable woman. I laid out the problem, and told her what Lemboîté had discovered. Suddenly Virginie cried, "That can't be the right explanation. Paving a tramway station would be too hard for arthritics. If it were light, healthy work, like a job in the country ... Eh! But ... pass me your pencil, Father Lemboîté ... Yes, here's the right solution: Réservistes Arthritiques, labourieux et patriotes encore utilisable P. pour P. planter S. salsifis T. tomates. Lucky Bécassine! She's bound to be a supervisor of cultivation!" She debated it with Lemboîté and the proprietess, each one stubbornly defending a different position. Seeing as they were unable to come to an accord, I slipped away and went home. I recounted the affair to Madame and asked her if she thought I was to be a nurse, a corporal, or something in agriculture.
"I do not know at all," responded Madame. "The only means of finding it out is to ask Monsieur D. Bile to tell you the significance of R A L E P E U P P S T." After a moment's reflection she added, " To think that the fashion of writing only in initials was created to save time!"
36.
I was keen to see Monsieur D. Bile, to thank him for obtaining my mobilization, and also to finally find out what my job was. So, the next day I headed out early to his office. At the office, everything was the same as on my first visit. There was no one in the waiting room, and all the wickets were closed. But, this time, I didn't feel intimidated by them, or by the thought of speaking with someone from the government, because now that I was mobilized, I too was in government. The thought of that gave me courage. I knocked, and not too timidily either, I guarantee you, and, when nobody answered, I went calmly into the inner office. Again, no one. I took a seat and looked around me, and noticed plenty of changes to the place. There were no more bottles or boxes of pills. On the contrary, the place was loaded with all kinds of gymnastic equipment: weights, bats, an enormous ball.
A notice was conspicuously positioned on the writing table. It read: Monsieur Alcide Bile is outside in the woods. Please look for him there. I started to get an itch waiting there all alone. I did as the notice recommended. I went out to the woods that begin next tot the office. But it's not so easy to find somebody in a forest. After looking down two or three paths without finding anything, I began to call out with all my force, "Monsieur D. Bile! Monsieur D. Bile!" I called like that while walking on.
And I heard above me a voice that said, "I'm here, Mademoiselle Bécassine ... wait, I'll climb down." I pointed my nose upward and what do you think I saw? My guardian was sitting on a great branch, five metres up, making gestures of amity.
I've seen a few strange things in my life, but nothing surprised me as much as that: a bureau chief straddling a tree. I was amazed again when he dropped out of his tree so quickly and easily that an acrobat could not have done better. In a blink of an eye he was beside me. He took my hands and shook them so firmly that I snatched them back, and said, "I'm so pleased to see you! You find me changed, isn't it so?"
37.
It's true to say that I hardly recognized him, he was so full of vigour and energy. He went on, "Saved, Bécassine! Saved! D. Bile is now Alcide. And how? Very simply, through physical culture. Ah! Physical culture! Listen to how I celebrate it in my latest lines, which I have just composed on that branch." (Declaiming:)
The pharmaceutical venture
Will never make you healthy.
But you will gain power and beauty
Thanks to physical culture.
I said that I found the lines very nice and poetical, but that I didn't understand them very well, seeing that I know nothing about this famous physical culture. Then, while we returned to his office, Monsieur Bile explained to me that it consisted of movements combined to fortify every part of the body. As he had had ads to write about this invention he thought he had better try it out. Two days later he felt so well that he threw all his drugs into the fire. "Never more, Bécassine, will I take a pill or a syrup. Living physical culture in the great outdoors, that's enough to cure anything. Look, for the digestion, use this movement: bend forward, the legs taut, and the arms dangling. Do as I do. To avoid varicose veins, hop in place, feet crossing alternately. Do as I do. Higher. With suppleness, with grace."
I did as he did. I don't know if it aided my digestion, or helped me to avoid varicose veins, but what I do know is that by the time we made it back to his office I was completely worn out. I sat down, totally winded. Then, after I had rested a little, the purpose of my visit popped back into my head. "Monsieur Bile," I said, "it would be an instance of your kindness if you would explain the end of your note -- the part where there's a gaggle of letters? We've knocked on the top of our heads without understanding a thing."
"What?" he said in surprise. "You didn't work it out? It's very simple, and the abbreviations are clear and easy. R A L E P E U P P S T stands for Réserve d'Automobiles Légèrement Endommagé Pouvant Être Utilisées Pour Petit Service Temporaire. It's obvious."
It's true that it's plain and obvious once you know what it says. I felt ashamed that I hadn't figured it out. I thanked Monsieur Bile. He once again squeezed my hand, and said goodbye. While I limped away, having skinned my legs while jumping in place, he yelled to me from the door, "A large respiratory movement ... do as I do!" I did the large respiratory movement, but like my future R A, I was L E ... lightly damaged, I mean.
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