“Kom’ bald wieder,” Bardek grunted. “Sobald als möglich. Come vairy soon again!” It was a sincere invitation, Gorgas assured them—Bardek was always himself—and it was a great tribute.
VI
LIBERTÉ, EGALITÉ, FRATERNITÉ
THEY did come soon again. The air was gently from the southwest. There was a blue summer sky with high lazy clouds.
“Entrez, m’sieurs, mam’zelle!” called Bardek, and rattled on. “Je suis enchanté de vous voir! I am delighted to see you! Ah! when you were here last, the weather was gloomy and German—but today! Today the sky is beautiful and French. Voici!” spreading his hands to the heavens, “Voici, la France!”
“Hang up your hat on the hall-rack,” he went on gayly in French. “I am ravished to see you! Comment ça va, Chucks?”
Chucks grinned his lack of comprehension.
“Comment ça va, Chucks?” Bardek extended a hand of greeting. “Can you not speak, Chucks?” he dropped into English. “Can you only spit, eh? Pfui! ‘Comment ça va?’ my Chucks, it is ‘Howd’y.’ But have care! Prends attention! Pray do not spit. Ici c’est defendu! Here,” sweeping his hand in a short circle, “here it is beautiful France and here it is not permitted. Are you yet German, Chucks? Must I fight you?” he crooked an imaginary gun and stood ready to charge bayonets. His eyes glared; his bushy eyebrows quivered; his whole body strained for the word of command. “Conspuez les All’mands!” he muttered as only the French could think that phrase. In a second all that ferocity had vanished. “Non? You have not yet changed your skin? Eh bien! We shall keep l’entente cordiale. Vive l’Amérique! I shake the hand.”
“Chuck” and Bardek extended hands and wrung an international grip.
“Et mam’zelle?” he turned to Gorgas. “Que veutelle faire aujourd’ hui? Sit and talk, hein?”
“Let me work on my plate, Bardek,” she asked. “I’m excited about that plate.”