“It is the fashion in my country.”
Postage Stamps
CHAPTER IX POSTAGE STAMPS
The train stopped at a large station. A dozen officers entered the car all talking, threw their bags into their racks, took off their swords and placed them near the window, seated themselves and lighted their cigarettes. There was a perfect slaughter of matches. Poor Fiam was so frightened that he hurried under my waistcoat and, creeping near a buttonhole, hid his head under a button.
Outside of the train there was the noise of a great crowd. We could hear the tread of the troops as they went to their places in the cars prepared for them. We heard shouted commands, the rattle of cartridges in their boxes at the belts of the soldiers, and the guns dropping to the ground all at once sounded like falling iron. In the distance hundreds of people kept shrieking and repeating: “Sayonara!” which means good-bye. “Banzai,” hurrah. “Come back victorious! Destroy the enemy! Glory!” and other similar cries.
One of the officers in my compartment asked: