The Autobiographical Works - George Orwell

Скачать книгу

to a brothel. Men began to empty their glasses, call briefly, ''sieurs, dames!' 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 dismally drunk. We went on swallowing the wine, but it was only from habit, and the stuff seemed suddenly nauseating. One's head had swollen 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 perfectly 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.

      Chapter XVIII

       Table of Contents

      Charlie told us a good story one Saturday night in the bistro. Try and picture him—drunk, but sober enough to talk consecutively. He bangs on the zinc bar and yells for silence:

      'Silence, messieurs et dames—silence, I implore you! Listen to this story that I am about to tell you. A memorable story, an instructive story, one of the souvenirs of a refined and civilized life. Silence, messieurs et dames!

      'It happened at a time when I was hard up. You know what that is like—how damnable, that a man of refinement should ever be in such a condition. My money had not come from home; I had pawned everything, and there was nothing open to me except to work, which is a thing I will not do. I was living with a girl at the time—Yvonne her name was—a great half-witted peasant girl like Azaya there, with yellow hair and fat legs. The two of us had eaten nothing in three days. Mon Dieu, what sufferings! The girl used to walk up and down the room with her hands on her belly, howling like a dog that she was dying of starvation. It was terrible.

      'But to a man of intelligence nothing is impossible. I propounded to myself the question, "What is the easiest way to get money without working?" And immediately the answer came: "To get money easily one must be a woman. Has not every woman something to sell?" And then, as I lay reflecting upon the things I should do if I were a woman, an idea came into my head. I remembered the Government maternity hospitals—you know the Government maternity hospitals? They are places where women who are enceinte are given meals free and no questions are asked. It is done to encourage childbearing. Any woman can go there and demand a meal, and she is given it immediately.

      '"Mon Dieu!" I thought, "if only I were a woman! I would eat at one of those places every day. Who can tell whether a woman is enceinte or not, without an examination?"

      'I turned to Yvonne. "Stop that insufferable bawling," I said; "I have thought of a way to get food."

      '"How?" said she.

      '"It is simple," I said. "Go to the Government maternity hospital. Tell them you are enceinte and ask for food. They will give you a good meal and ask no questions."

      'Yvonne was appalled. "Mais, mon Dieu," she cried, "I am not enceinte!"

      '"Who cares?" I said. "That is easily remedied. What do you need except a cushion—two cushions if necessary? It is an inspiration from heaven, ma chère. Don't waste it."

      'Well, in the end I persuaded her, and then we borrowed a cushion and I got her ready and took her to the maternity hospital. They received her with open arms. They gave her cabbage soup, a ragoût of beef, a purée of potatoes, bread and cheese and beer, and all kinds of advice about her baby. Yvonne gorged till she almost burst her skin, and managed to slip some of the bread and cheese into her pocket for me. I took her there every day until I had money again. My intelligence had saved us.

      'Everything went well until a year later. I was with Yvonne again, and one day we were walking down the Boulevard Port Royal, near the barracks. Suddenly Yvonne's mouth fell open, and she began turning red and white, and red again.

      '"Mon Dieu!" she cried, "look at that who is coming! It is the nurse who was in charge at the maternity hospital, I am ruined!"

      '"Quick!" I said, "run!" But it was too late. The nurse had recognized Yvonne, and she came straight up to us, smiling. She was a big fat woman with a gold pince-nez and red cheeks like the cheeks of an apple. A motherly, interfering kind of woman.

      '"I hope you are well, ma petite?" she said kindly. "And your baby, is he well too? Was it a boy, as you were hoping?"

      'Yvonne had begun trembling so hard that I had to grip her arm. "No," she said at last.

      '"Ah, then, évidemment, it was a girl?"

      'Thereupon Yvonne, the idiot, lost her head completely. "No," she actually said again!

      'The nurse was taken aback. "Comment!" she exclaimed, "neither a boy nor a girl! But how can that be?"

      'Figure to yourselves, messieurs et dames, it was a dangerous moment. Yvonne had turned the colour of a beetroot and looked ready to burst into tears; another second and she would have confessed everything. Heaven knows what might have happened. But as for me, I had kept my head; I stepped in and saved the situation.

      '"It was twins," I said calmly.

      '"Twins!" exclaimed the nurse. And she was so pleased that she took Yvonne by the shoulders and embraced her on both cheeks, publicly.

      'Yes, twins . . .'

      Chapter XIX

       Table of Contents

      One day, when we had been at the Hôtel X. five or six weeks, Boris disappeared without notice. In the evening I found him waiting for me in the Rue de Rivoli. He slapped me gaily on the shoulder.

      'Free at last, mon ami! You can give notice in the morning. The Auberge opens tomorrow.'

      'Tomorrow?'

      'Well, possibly we shall need a day or two to arrange things. But, at any rate, no more cafeterie! Nous voilà lancés, mon ami! My tail coat is out of pawn already.'

      His manner was so hearty that I felt sure there was something wrong, and I did not at all want to leave my safe and comfortable job at the hotel. However, I had promised Boris, so I gave notice, and the next morning at seven went down to the Auberge de Jehan Cottard. It was locked, and I went in search of Boris, who had once more bolted from his lodgings and taken a room in the Rue de la Croix Nivert. I found him asleep, together with a girl whom he had picked up the night before, and who he told me was 'of a very sympathetic temperament'. As to the restaurant, he said that it was all arranged; there were only a few little things to be seen to before we opened.

      At ten I managed to get Boris out of bed, and we unlocked the restaurant. At a glance I saw what the 'few little things' amounted to; it was briefly this: that the alterations had not been touched since our last visit. The stoves for the kitchen had not arrived, the water and electricity had not been laid on, and there was all manner of painting, polishing and carpentering to be done. Nothing short of a miracle could open the restaurant within ten days, and by the look of things it might collapse without even opening. It was obvious what had happened. The patron was short of money, and he had engaged the staff (there were four of us) in order to use us instead of workmen. He would be getting our services almost free, for waiters are paid no wages, and, though he would have to pay me, he would not be feeding me till the restaurant opened. In effect, he had swindled us of several hundred francs by sending for us before the restaurant was open. We had thrown up a good job for nothing.

      Boris, however, was full of hope. He had only one idea in his head, namely, that here at last was a chance of being a waiter and wearing a tail coat once more. For this he was quite willing to do ten days' work unpaid, with the

Скачать книгу