With thirty francs a week to spend on drinks I could take part in the social life of the quarter. We had some jolly evenings, on Saturdays, in the little BISTRO at the foot of the Hotel des Trois Moineaux.
The brick-floored room, fifteen feet square, was packed with twenty people, and the air dim with smoke. The noise was deafening1, for everyone was either talking at the top of his voice or singing. Sometimes it was just a confused din2 of voices; sometimes everyone would burst out together in the same song — the ‘Marseillaise’, or the ‘Internationale’, or ‘Madelon’, or ‘Les Fraises et les Fram-boises’. Azaya, a great clumping3 peasant girl who worked fourteen hours a day in a glass factory, sang a song about, ‘IL A PERDU SES PANTALONS, TOUT4 EN DANSANT LE CHARLESTON.’ Her friend Marinette, a thin, dark Corsican girl of obstinate5 virtue6, tied her knees together and danced the DANSE DU VENTRE. The old Rougiers wandered in and out, cadging7 drinks and trying to tell a long, involved story about someone who had once cheated them over a bedstead. R., cadaverous and silent, sat in his comer quietly boozing. Charlie, drunk, half danced, half staggered to and fro with a glass of sham8 absinthe balanced in one fat hand, pinching the women’s breasts and declaiming poetry. People played darts9 and diced10 for drinks. Manuel, a Spaniard, dragged the girls to the bar and shook the dice-box against their bellies11, for luck. Madame F. stood at the bar rapidly pouring CHOPINES of wine through the pewter funnel12, with a wet dishcloth always handy, because every man in the room tried to make love to her. Two children, bastards13 of big Louis the bricklayer, sat in a comer sharing a glass of SIROP. Everyone was very happy, overwhelmingly certain that the world was a good place and we a notable set of people.
For an hour the noise scarcely slackened. Then about midnight there was a piercing shout of ‘CITOYENS!’ and the sound of a chair falling over. A blond, red-faced workman had risen to his feet and was banging a bottle on the table. Everyone stopped singing; the word went round, ‘Sh! Furex is starting!’ Furex was a strange creature, a Limousin stonemason who worked steadily14 all the week and drank himself into a kind of paroxysm on Saturdays. He had lost his memory and could not remember anything before the war, and he would have gone to pieces through drink if Madame F. had not taken care of him. On Saturday evenings at about five o’clock she would say to someone, ‘Catch Furex before he spends his wages,’ and when he had been caught she would take away his money, leaving him enough for one good drink. One week he escaped, and, rolling blind drunk in the Place Monge, was run over by a car and badly hurt.
The queer thing about Furex was that, though he was a Communist when sober, he turned violently patriotic15 when drunk. He started the evening with good Communist principles, but after four or five litres he was a rampant16 Chauvinist17, denouncing spies, challenging all foreigners to fight, and, if he was not prevented, throwing bottles. It was at this stage that he made his speech — for he made a patriotic speech every Saturday night. The speech was always the same, word for word. It ran:
‘Citizens of the Republic, are there any Frenchmen here? If there are any Frenchmen here, I rise to remind them — to remind them in effect, of the glorious days of the war. When one looks back upon that time of comradeship and heroism18 — one looks back, in effect, upon that time of comradeship and heroism. When one remembers the heroes who are dead — one remembers, in effect, the heroes who are dead. Citizens of the Republic, I was wounded at Verdun — ’
Here he partially19 undressed and showed the wound he had received at Verdun. There were shouts of applause. We thought nothing in the world could be funnier than this speech of Furex’s. He was a well-known spectacle in the quarter; people used to come in from other BISTROS to watch him when Us fit started.
The word was passed round to bait Furex. With a wink20 to the others someone called for silence, and asked him to sing the ‘Marseillaise’. He sang it well, in a fine bass21 voice, with patriotic gurgling noises deep down in his chest when he came to ‘AUX ARRMES, CITOYENS! FORRMEZ VOS BATAILLONS!’ Veritable tears rolled down his cheeks; he was too drunk to see that everyone was laughing at him. Then, before he had finished, two strong workmen seized him by either arm and held him down, while Azaya shouted, ‘VIVE L’ALLEMAGNE!’ just out of his reach. Furex’s face went purple at such infamy22. Everyone in the BISTRO began shouting together, ‘VIVE L’ALLEMAGNE! A BAS LA FRANCE!’ while Furex struggled to get at them. But suddenly he spoiled the fun. His face turned pale and doleful, his limbs went limp, and before anyone could stop him he was sick on the table. Then Madame F. hoisted23 him like a sack and carried him up to bed. In the morning he reappeared quiet and civil, and bought a copy of L’HUMANITE.
The table was wiped with a cloth, Madame F. brought more litre bottles and loaves of bread, and we Settled down to serious drinking. There were more songs. An itinerant24 singer came in with his banjo and performed for five-sou pieces. An Arab and a girl from the BISTRO down the street did a dance, the man wielding25 a painted wooden phallus the size of a rolling-pin. There were gaps in the noise now. People had begun to talk about their love-affairs, and the war, and the barbel fishing in the Seine, and the best way to FAIRE LA REVOLUTION, and to tell stories. Charlie, grown sober again, captured the conversation and talked about his soul for five minutes. The doors and windows were opened to cool the room. The street was emptying, and in the distance one could hear the lonely milk train thundering down the Boulevard St Michel. The air blew cold on our foreheads, and the coarse African wine still tasted good: we were still happy, but meditatively26, with the shouting and hilarious27 mood finished.
By one o’clock we were not happy any longer. We felt the joy of the evening wearing thin, and called hastily for more bottles, but Madame F. was watering the wine now, and it did not taste the same. Men grew quarrelsome. The girls were violently kissed and hands thrust into their bosoms28 and they made off lest worse should happen. Big Louis, the bricklayer, was drunk, and crawled about the floor barking and pretending to be a dog. The others grew tired of him and kicked at him as he went past. People seized each other by the arm and began long rambling29 confessions30, and were angry when these were not listened to. The crowd thinned. Manuel and another man, both gamblers, went across to the Arab BISTRO, where card-playing went on till daylight. Charlie suddenly borrowed thirty francs from Madame F. and disappeared, probably to a brothel. Men began to empty their glasses, call briefly31, ‘‘SIEURS, DAMES32!’ and go off to bed.
By half past one the last drop of pleasure had evaporated, leaving nothing but headaches. We perceived that we were not splendid inhabitants of a splendid world, but a crew of underpaid workmen grown squalidly and dismally33 drunk. We went on swallowing the wine, but it was only from habit, and the stuff seemed suddenly nauseating34. One’s head had swollen35 up like a balloon, the floor rocked, one’s tongue and lips were stained purple. At last it was no use keeping it up any longer. Several men went out into the yard behind the BISTRO and were sick. We crawled up to bed, tumbled down half dressed, and stayed there ten hours.
Most of my Saturday nights went in this way. On the whole, the two hours when one was perfectly36 and wildly happy seemed worth the subsequent headache. For many men in the quarter, unmarried and with no future to think of, the weekly drinking-bout was the one thing that made life worth living.
1 deafening | |
adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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2 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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3 clumping | |
v.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的现在分词 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声 | |
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4 tout | |
v.推销,招徕;兜售;吹捧,劝诱 | |
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5 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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6 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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7 cadging | |
v.乞讨,乞得,索取( cadge的现在分词 ) | |
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8 sham | |
n./adj.假冒(的),虚伪(的) | |
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9 darts | |
n.掷飞镖游戏;飞镖( dart的名词复数 );急驰,飞奔v.投掷,投射( dart的第三人称单数 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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10 diced | |
v.将…切成小方块,切成丁( dice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11 bellies | |
n.肚子( belly的名词复数 );腹部;(物体的)圆形或凸起部份;腹部…形的 | |
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12 funnel | |
n.漏斗;烟囱;v.汇集 | |
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13 bastards | |
私生子( bastard的名词复数 ); 坏蛋; 讨厌的事物; 麻烦事 (认为别人走运或不幸时说)家伙 | |
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14 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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15 patriotic | |
adj.爱国的,有爱国心的 | |
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16 rampant | |
adj.(植物)蔓生的;狂暴的,无约束的 | |
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17 chauvinist | |
n.沙文主义者 | |
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18 heroism | |
n.大无畏精神,英勇 | |
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19 partially | |
adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
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20 wink | |
n.眨眼,使眼色,瞬间;v.眨眼,使眼色,闪烁 | |
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21 bass | |
n.男低音(歌手);低音乐器;低音大提琴 | |
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22 infamy | |
n.声名狼藉,出丑,恶行 | |
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23 hoisted | |
把…吊起,升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24 itinerant | |
adj.巡回的;流动的 | |
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25 wielding | |
手持着使用(武器、工具等)( wield的现在分词 ); 具有; 运用(权力); 施加(影响) | |
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26 meditatively | |
adv.冥想地 | |
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27 hilarious | |
adj.充满笑声的,欢闹的;[反]depressed | |
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28 bosoms | |
胸部( bosom的名词复数 ); 胸怀; 女衣胸部(或胸襟); 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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29 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
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30 confessions | |
n.承认( confession的名词复数 );自首;声明;(向神父的)忏悔 | |
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31 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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32 dames | |
n.(在英国)夫人(一种封号),夫人(爵士妻子的称号)( dame的名词复数 );女人 | |
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33 dismally | |
adv.阴暗地,沉闷地 | |
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34 nauseating | |
adj.令人恶心的,使人厌恶的v.使恶心,作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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35 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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36 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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