“Tell him I love him.”
I told him.
“Will you shut your mouth and get us out of here?” Guy said. The lady had placed another arm around his neck. “Tell him he is mine,” she said. I told him.
“Will you get us out of here?”
“You are quarrelling,” the lady said. “You do not love one another.”
“We are Germans,” I said proudly, “old South Germans.”
“Tell him he is a beautiful boy,” the lady said. Guy is thirty-eight and takes some pride in the fact that he is taken for a travelling salesman in France. “You are a beautiful boy,” I said.
“Who says so?” Guy asked, “you or her?”
“She does. I’m just your interpreter. Isn’t that what you got me in on this trip for?”
“I’m glad it’s her,” said Guy. “I didn’t want to have to leave you here too.”