"Peste!" he ejaculated. "'Tis a clever lad! And how knew you that, Jean?"
I was overjoyed—and in no need to simulate my sentiments. This was good fortune.
"Was I not camping beside the Regiment de Provence when we were on the Italian frontier! 'Tis a pleasant way those lads have of talking. And such good companions with the bottle!"
"You know, Jean, you know!"
Joncaire was delighted with me.
"Ah, yes, monsieur," I asserted modestly. "Ah, for some of that warm Southern wine at this moment instead of the accursed rum. Rum is good only for savages."
"You say truth," applauded Joncaire. "Come your ways within, Jean, and you shall taste of the blood of La Belle France—although it be not our Provence vintage. By the way, do you know Provence?"
"I can not say so with honesty, monsieur," I fenced, "although I have been in Arles."
"In Arles!"
He flung his arms around my neck.