Page 113 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

bottles, but Madame F. was watering the wine now, and it
did not taste the same. Men grew quarrelsome. The girls
were violently kissed and hands thrust into their bosoms
and they made off lest worse should happen. Big Louis, the
bricklayer, was drunk, and crawled about the floor barking
and pretending to be a dog. The others grew tired of him
and kicked at him as he went past. People seized each other
by the arm and began long rambling confessions, and were
angry when these were not listened to. The crowd thinned.
Manuel and another man, both gamblers, went across to
the Arab BISTRO, where card-playing went on till daylight.
Charlie suddenly borrowed thirty francs from Madame F.
and disappeared, probably to a brothel. Men began to emp-
ty their glasses, call briefly, ‘’SIEURS, DAMES!’ and go off
to bed.
By half past one the last drop of pleasure had evaporated,
leaving nothing but headaches. We perceived that we were
not splendid inhabitants of a splendid world, but a crew of
underpaid workmen grown squalidly and dismally drunk.
We went on swallowing the wine, but it was only from hab-
it, and the stuff seemed suddenly nauseating. One’s head
had swollen up like a balloon, the floor rocked, one’s tongue
and lips were stained purple. At last it was no use keeping
it up any longer. Several men went out into the yard behind
the BISTRO and were sick. We crawled up to bed, tumbled
down half dressed, and stayed there ten hours.
Most of my Saturday nights went in this way. On the
whole, the two hours when one was perfectly and wildly
happy seemed worth the subsequent headache. For many

11 Down and Out in Paris and London