M&anie in her own private sanctum occasionally
produced something stronger, the doctor was spared
any consequent grief—what the eye doesn't see the
heart doesn't grieve over. At the cafe there might also
be those home on leave who were drinking their fill
and a little bit extra, for when men have made
a long sojourn in hell it is not surprising that they
should feel thirsty. Then the whole and the maimed
would grow merry together, their jests being bandied
from table to table in the anatomical argot of war
with which even civilians were becoming familiar.
But the little violinist with the hump on his back
must often sigh as he looked at the wounded, and that
sigh would not be because of their wounds but because
he was actually filled with envy — it was better to
have a useless leg, an ersatz hand, or a lung that was
hardening, for the sake of glory, than an inglorious
hump because one's father had kicked one's mother.
And now when he played, in spite of his efforts the
fiddle would sound as though it were wailing, so that
M£re Melanie when he came to her bed must box
his ears for an indolent lout who no longer put spirit
into his tunes, although there was plenty of it in his belly:
'To hear you is to think of a hearse;' she would
rage. 'Mon Dieu, you have cause enough to rejoice
that deformed as you are you need not fight. The
least you can do is to earn your keep!' And then she
would suddenly box his ears, for the sight of him often
aroused her anger.
However, he would seldom reply to such gibes,
even when his beloved chastised him severely. What
was the use of trying to explain? And in any case he
would be fuddled with brandy.
§3
During November Goundran returned on the brief-
est of leaves. He was browner than ever and appar-
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