THE BATTLE  OF FRANCE
And the songs they liked best? Above all, the old
ones, tested by time. And of the new ones, those
that gave them sentiment and humour mixed.
They had that evening fervently applauded a
violinist who had played old, heart-rending melodies
while he engaged in perilous acrobatics. But this
strange mixture was far from shocking them: they
were, indeed, charmed by it. For they were bathed
in their own sentimentality and, fearful of becoming
utterly engulfed in it, were relieved when they found
themselves in lighter and more volatile surroundings
where they could spread themselves with confidence.
And the jokes? They were the jokes, exactly the
jokes, of twenty-five years ago. Love, girls, country
dialogues, sergeants and officers, football and
cricket. . . . Hitler and Goering have taken the
places of Wilhelm II and Tirpitz, but the old
stories had only to change their names to live their
old successes over again. To that audience, Scottish
stories were what the stories of Marseilles and its
citizens are to the Frenchman, An English-Scottish
dialogue split the audience into two laughing camps.
The Scots were outnumbered, but more often than
not it was their rolling accent that dominated the
mel£e. Once again their sense of humour found food
for laughter in a difference of natures and when the
concert was over, God Save the King, religiously
sung, restored the unity of the Kingdom*
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