"But certainly, and without charge, mon gars," replied that gentleman, turning and eyeing the incomprehensible and dangerous Jean Boule, à coin de l'oeil.
"You seek soap?"
"I do," replied the Austrian "Belgian" promptly. The possession of one cake of soap makes that of another no less desirable.
"Do you seek sorrow also?"
"But no, dear friend. 'J'ai eu toutes les folies.' In this world I seek but wine, woman, and peace. Let me avoid the 'gros bonnets' and lead my happy tumble life in peaceful obscurity. A modest violet, I. A wayside flow'ret, a retiring primrose, such as you English love."
"Then, cher Malvin, since you seek soap and not sorrow, let not my little cake of soap disappear from beneath the polishing-rags in my sack. The little brown sack at the head of my cot, cher Malvin. Enfin! I appoint you guardian and custodian of my little cake of soap. But in a most evil hour for le bon M. Malvin would it disappear. Guard it then, cher Malvin. Respect it. Watch over it as you value, and would retain, your health and beauty, M. Malvin. And when I have avenged my little piece of soap, the true history of the last ten minutes will deeply interest those earnest searchers after truth, Legionaries Schnitzel and Dupont. Depart in peace and enter upon your new office of Guardian of my Soap! Vous devez en être joliment fier."
"Quite a speech, in effect, mon drôle," replied the stout Austrian as he doubtfully fingered his short beard au poinçon, and added uneasily, "I am not the only gentleman who 'decorates' himself with soap."
"No? Nor with uniforms. Go in peace, Protector of my Soap."
And smiling wintrily M. Malvin winked, broke into the wholly deplorable ditty of "Pére Dupanloup en chemin de fer," and pursued his innocent path to barracks, whither Sir Montague Merline later followed him, after watching with a contemptuous smile some mixed and messy fighting (beside the apparently dead body of the Legionary Schnitzel) between an Alsatian and an Italian, in which the Italian kicked his opponent in the stomach and partly ate his ear, and the Alsatian used his hands solely for purpose of throttling.
Why couldn't they stand up and fight like gentlemen under Queensberry rules, or, if boxing did not appeal to them, use their sword-bayonets like soldiers and Legionaries--the low rooters, the vulgar, rough-and-tumble gutter-scrappers....