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Here he adjusted his monocle and, after giving me a good look, he continued, "I know about aptitude. The art of discovering and utilizing aptitudes -- that's my specialty. I see in you the signs of the aptitude to organize this dinner. I'm counting on you. Until this evening, young girl."
I have nothing else to tell until the moment that we arrived. The hotel was not much to look at, and the hostess did not seem to be blessed with resourcefulness. August told her that he would take charge of the table settings, and that for the menu, she was to prepare everything I ordered and nothing more.
I sat down to write that menu. I had thought it over on the way. I named the dishes after the allied nations, after the manner that I had seen at Madame's on the evenings of grand dinners: flounder à l'anglaise, lobster américaine, brazed chicken à l'italienne, Russian jellied ham. I put all that on the paper and handed it to the hostess.
She seemed suddenly confused when she read it. But I didn't have time to talk. I had to go and set up my mistress' apartment in a villa in another part of the town. I ran there and spent the afternoon emptying the trunk and sorting out her effects. And when I got back to the hotel, Monsieur the Minister was there with all his guests. He asked, "Is dinner ready?"
"I think so, Monsieur the Minister."
"Good. We're dying of hunger. As there is no salon, we'll sit at the table."
They seated themselves. Auguste and I opened the bottles. After about five minutes, when it looked as if nothing was coming out of the kitchen, I opened the door and yelled to the hostess, "Hurry up and serve."
She came into the dining room and said, "Serve what? There's nothing."
"What, nothing?" demanded the Minister.
"No, nothing. Your maid (it was me that she spoke to) ordered seafood. It never comes here. And meat, but there's no meat today. And as your fat employee told me not to buy anything but what the maid ordered, I could do nothing at all."
The diners seemed very annoyed, the Minister even more so. As for Auguste, he collapsed into a chair and moaned about his lost honour.
"It's up to me to pull them out of this," I thought to myself when I saw them so disheartened. I found some eggs in the kitchen and fricasseed some tasty omelettes. With sardines and vegetables donated by my hostess, I made a dinner suitable for these times of war.
"Democratic simplicity, messieurs," said the Minister, who had regained his good humour. He added, looking in my direction, "That young girl might not have quite the aptitude that I thought, but she has some aptitudes, and I utilized them. That's the main thing. We utilize, messieurs, we utilize! To your health, messieurs!"
60.
The day following that dinner I told you about, that started so poorly, I encountered the Minister in the village square. Since I was not so proud of my stupidity in that affair, I was afraid he might scold me, and I tried to avoid him.
But he came over to me, and I was very surprised to hear him say that I had shown great presence of mind, and that my aptitudes had risen to the height of those difficult circumstances. He added a pile of compliments in phrases so nicely turned that I wouldn't know how to repeat them.
He concluded, "I would like to offer you something in thanks. Have you any desire you would like to express?" I told him that my greatest desire was to visit the camp, because I admire everything military.
He turned to an officer who was with him and asked, "Is it possible to issue an authorization, my colonel?" The colonel replied that, ordinarily, access to the camp was forbidden to females, but he would consider an exception if it pleased the Minister, and he wrote me a permit for that afternoon.
I returned to the house, where I found Zidore. He gave me no time to tell him what had happened. "Ah! Mam'zelle Bécassine," he said. "What bad luck that you can't see the camp! I've seen it. It's magnificent! Picture cannons as tall as the Eiffel Tower, and armoured vehicles (they call them tanks) big enough to hold a family of elephants!" He carried on in this vein, making elaborate gestures.
Me, I'm beginning to understand our Zidore. I could tell from his face that everything he was telling me was lies. I let him go on, and when he was finished, I said to him with an innocent air, "Ah well! You can show me right now. I have a permit."
You could see that he knew he was caught. He tried to let on that he was under the Lieutenant's orders to stay at the house, but that was a lie too, as the Lieutenant himself came in at that point and ordered him to accompany me to the camp.
We went after lunch, with Auguste, whom the Minister had authorized as well. It was very interesting. I saw the great cannons, and one of the famous tanks, which looked like an iron beast.
A sargeant showed me the underground shelters where they take refuge whenever aeroplanes are spotted.
61.
He amused himself by having me try on the helmet and gas mask they use. In the end I was very pleased with my visit.
I must say that my two companions did not seem as enthusiastic. The fat Auguste groaned without stop that the weather was too warm, that it was dusty, and that the corns on his feet were killing him. I was ashamed to see him being so soft around soldiers who put up with so many terrible things without complaint.
As for Zidore, I was asking him all the time, "And the cannons as tall as the Eiffel Tower, where are they? And the tanks that can hold an elephant family, when do they arrive?" He saw that I was mocking him, and it vexed him. True, it was a little mean of me, but he had it coming. He really tells a lot of lies.
He regained his usual good spirits when the visit ended. At that moment we noticed a group of autos in front of the general staff building. As we were aware that there was a conference of generals going on, we thought that these must be their cars. We approached the chauffeurs, all military, naturally, the French and the foreigners, and talked with them.
Auguste, who likes to turn a fine phrase, said, "Mademoiselle et messieurs, here we are altogether a group of allies. We represent a sort of Chamber of Allies."
"We represent the antechamber more," was Zidore's riposte, which started everyone laughing.
Later, as you might expect, talk turned to the war. Everyone had something to say. A Serb and a Belgian recounted all the horrors that the miserable Boches had inflicted on their poor little countries. I had tears in my eyes, and the others were moved as well.
"They'll pay for all that," said an English. And an American added, "They can't hold out against the whole world."
Fat Auguste had only this to offer: "This war is very long. And now we have to spend another winter. How will we manage?"
He irritated me, this fat man who whined all the time. So I cried, "It will last as long as it lasts! We will suffer what we must suffer! But the Boches, we will have them!"
And all the others applauded and told me I had spoken like a true Frenchwoman.
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