A Modern Legionary

by John Patrick Le Poer

"I trust you, Jean," she answered; "will you not trust me?" I was not allowed to reply; she put a pretty finger on my lips, and said:

"Yes, I know you trust me; why say to me what I know?"

What pleasant days we had together! What fun and jesting and pretended rebukes! When the sergeant and his wife were installed in one of the rooms over the canteen, I used to stay until the call went for "Out lights," and then I groped my way in the darkness back to my quarters, challenged by every sentry on the road. Soon the battalion got to understand that le jeune was always to be found going to his quarters at a certain hour, and the sentries used to look out especially for me. I, of course, had to answer their challenges and to give my reason for being out at night. I always said:

"Visiting Sergeant M——." As I passed the scoundrels used to say: "Sergeant M——, is he married? Has Madame M—— a friend at her house?" And I dared not say anything in reply, because if I did all the battalion would be laughing at me and somebody else next day.

You must not think that the men wished to hurt anyone's feelings. No; bad as they were, forgetful as they were of the ten commandments, they had no intention, not even the slightest, of offending Giulia or me. Giulia was the pet. Many envied me, I am sure, but they envied me because they thought things; had they known that Giulia and I were merely good friends, good comrades, and that no word of love had ever been said by either of us they would have laughed, and said: "Oh, boy and girl to-day, lover and mistress to-morrow," but that was because, with a lingering taste for good, they had quite given up expecting it here or hereafter. One thing I must say, the legionaries were very quiet in the canteen. They called for their drinks and went outside at once, and there smoked, drank, and sang as best pleased each. Sometimes a man would have no money and would wish for a drink in the morning or a pipeful of tobacco at night. He came to me, and said:

"I want it, my sergeant-major; will you give it me?"

"I can't give it," I used to say, "but I'll ask for it for you, and if you don't pay when you have money I shall have to pay instead and I'll never ask for you again."

They did not always pay, but that was because a man's money was stopped—he was in hospital, perhaps, or in jail—but Giulia and I never minded that; the men who could pay did.

To say the truth, no battalion in the world was so good or so comfortable as ours at that time. The men never drank out of the lines, therefore those who went too far could be easily carried away to bed. There was very little fighting, for no man, indeed, would strike a blow in Mademoiselle Julie's canteen, and if a blow is not struck soon, soldiers forgive and forget easily; moreover, if a man had no money he could get his bit of tobacco and, perhaps, his glass of eau-de-vie without begging for it. Giulia never wrote down the name of a man she gave credit to; she said always: "It is not my honour, but yours, that is at stake." That phrase with us was worth all the ledgers in the world.

One evening I was sitting on the edge of the counter talking about something or other to a corporal who had dropped in for a glass of wine and had asked me to join him in the drink. In spite of the difference in rank I consented, for I knew quite well that the social position that the corporal used to hold was very much higher than my own; as a matter of fact, the man had at one time a commission in the British army, and his father draws to this very day a big pension from the British Government But that is by the way. As we chatted Giulia listened and was interested; we spoke of some affairs of the battalion, and Giulia knew as much as we did of such things. We three were the only persons in the canteen. I had just told Giulia to refill the glasses, and she was about doing so when a man entered, a simple soldier. I did not know him at the time; I found out afterwards that he was a Hessian and bore the reputation of being taciturn and unsociable, thereby rendering himself an object of dislike to all. He called for a glass of brandy and drank it, then for another, which he sipped slowly, and tried to enter into conversation with Giulia. The corporal and I resumed the conversation interrupted by the Hessian's entrance, and Giulia evidently preferred to listen to us rather than to the new-comer. As he noted this he became rather angry, and made some remark about his money being as good as another's, and that canteen girls should be obliging to all customers. Giulia, who had a hot temper, told him at once to finish his drink and to take himself and his money elsewhere. The Hessian drank his brandy, and as he was leaving said that she knew the difference between a simple soldier and a sergeant-major, and if someone had no chevrons on his sleeve he would soon be taught that it was unmannerly to sit on a counter in the presence of a lady. My temper had been gradually rising and this was too much for me. I jumped down from the counter, took off my belt and bayonet, which I handed to Giulia, stripped off my tunic, and told the scamp that there were no chevrons on my shirt. He was astonished, and almost before he could put himself on his defence I had given him in quick succession right and left fists in the eyes. I followed up the attack vigorously, and in less than three minutes all the insolence was taken out of him and he begged for mercy. Then I kicked him out of the canteen and told him never again to enter it, put on my tunic and sat down, this time on a chair.