"Hello! Hadn't enough to eat, eh?" somebody yelled in German.
"That's as may be," replied Herr von Rader in cutting sarcasm. "You didn't come to the Legion because you had too much money, did you?" Applause and laughter greeted this answer.
"Any one from Frankfort amongst you?" another asked. "Merde!" said he, as nobody replied and turned and walked off.
Then came a surprise. A negro in the uniform of the Legion stalked up to me, regarding me dubiously, shaking his head as if he was not quite sure what to make of me.
"Talk U.S.?" he asked finally.
"Guess I do," I said.
"Golly," yelled the nigger, "here's another! You'se a h—— of a d—— fool! Doucement, doucement, white man—now, don't get mad. You'se surely is a fool! What in h—— you want to come here for?"
The humour of the situation struck me. Besides, I always rather liked darkies.
"What did you come here for?" I asked him.
"Me?" said the nigger disgusted, "me? This child's been fooled, see? I'se in Paris (this here nigger's been 'bout pretty much) and a great big doggone Paris cop nabbed me, see? Oh, 'bout nuffing particular. I'se been having a swell time in one ob dem little Paris restorangs—sweet times, honey! I'se kissed all the girls and I'se kicked eberyding else. Say—it was a mess. But this here cop got in and he got me all right—no flies on the Paris cops, honey! In the station house they done a lot of talking to this here nigger, 'bout French penitentiaries, mostly. They did done tell me, it was penitentiary or Legion. This child stuck to the American Consul, o' course. Say, he was no good either. Says he, he done got no time to go fooling wid fresh niggers. Take yer medicine, says he. Which I did—taking the Legion. Nix penitentiary for me. That's what this child come here for, sonny! Bet yer a cigarette you'se be as sick of them Legion people in 'bout four weeks as this nigger is, sure. No good. Nix good. D—— bad!"