How shy and confused he was when I came down to the dining-room that day and surprised him while he was examining his too-faint mustache with great seriousness before the mirror! Charming, I thought him, instantly; a clean, jolly sort of boy, quite too young for that ridiculous soldier’s uniform.
His aunt introduced him (with her arm about his shoulder and a tweak of his ear) by his nickname, “Coco”; and, after he got used to my being a foreigner, he began to talk, using his big brown eyes and his free, expressive1 hands quite as much as his tongue. Knowing a little of the Midi, I attempted an imitation of the patois2. Coco threw back his head and laughed with abandon. That broke the ice, and we became great friends.
He was so curious about everything American that I took him up to my salon3 to8 see my typewriter; also my neckties and fancy socks.
“But what’s this?” asked Coco, reading with his funny French pronunciation, “A-mer-i-cain Pencil Compagnie.” It was a novelty, a “perpetual” pencil of the self-sharpening sort, with a magazine filled with little points like cartridges4. When I gave it to him, it pleased Coco immensely.
“Just like a rifle!” he exclaimed, as he amused himself by pressing the end and ejecting the bits of lead. He went through the manual of arms with it, laughing; he did a mock bayonet thrust or two, and then aimed it at me in fun, like a child. “Pan!” he cried; “that’s the way we shoot Germans!” The contrast of his red pantaloons and blue coat with the round, innocent face and lips parted like a girl’s was absurd. Why, he was more like those doll soldiers you see at toyshops with curly hair! With his fresh9 pink cheeks and big brown eyes he seemed no more than sixteen years old.
In the evening we all went out on the crowded Boulevard, where, it being a fête day, they were dancing in front of the open-air band stands. It was a long time before I ceased to think of Coco as jolly, flushed, exuberant5, dancing the Tango on the corner by the Sorbonne with his pretty young aunt, as excited and happy as only a lad can be who has come up from a provincial6 town to see the metropolis7 for the first time on a holiday.
That was on the 14th of July of 1914. Next day he went back to his caserne at Montauban.
In two weeks war was declared!
Coco, our own blithe8 Coco, would have to go to the front—oh, his aunt’s white face that day!—and Coco would be in the first line! It seemed like some hideous9 mistake.10 But already Coco, pink-cheeked, laughing, shy, his mother’s only boy, was well on his way toward the German shells and machine guns!
点击收听单词发音
1 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
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2 patois | |
n.方言;混合语 | |
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3 salon | |
n.[法]沙龙;客厅;营业性的高级服务室 | |
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4 cartridges | |
子弹( cartridge的名词复数 ); (打印机的)墨盒; 录音带盒; (唱机的)唱头 | |
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5 exuberant | |
adj.充满活力的;(植物)繁茂的 | |
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6 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
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7 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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8 blithe | |
adj.快乐的,无忧无虑的 | |
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9 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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