Page 132 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

because Jules shirked his work, and Boris, as head waiter,
claimed the larger share of the tips. Only the second day af-
ter the restaurant opened, they came to blows in the kitchen
over a two-franc tip, and the cook and I had to separate
them. The only person who never forgot Us manners was
the PATRON. He kept the same hours as the rest of us, but
he had no work to do, for it was his wife who really man-
aged things. His sole job, besides ordering the supplies, was
to stand in the bar smoking cigarettes and looking gentle-
manly, and he did that to perfection.
The cook and I generally found time to eat our dinner be-
tween ten and eleven o’clock. At midnight the cook would
steal a packet of food for her husband, stow it under her
clothes, and make off, whimpering that these hours would
kill her and she would give notice in the morning. Jules also
left at midnight, usually after a dispute with Boris, who had
to look after the bar till two. Between twelve and half past
I did what I could to finish the washing up. There was no
time to attempt doing the work properly, and I used simply
to rub the grease off the plates with table-napkins. As for
the dirt on the floor, I let it lie, or swept the worst of it out of
sight under the stoves.
At half past twelve I would put on my coat and hurry
out. The PATRON, bland as ever, would stop me as I went
down the alley-way past the bar. ‘MAIS, MON CHER
MONSIEUR, how tired you look! Please do me the favour
of accepting this glass of brandy.’
He would hand me the glass of brandy as courteously as
though I had been a Russian duke instead of a PLONGEUR.

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