Page 52 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

VIII

e had now twenty-eight francs in hand, and could
Wstart looking for work once more. Boris was still
sleeping, on some mysterious terms, at the house of the cob-
bler, and he had managed to borrow another twenty francs
from a Russian friend. He had friends, mostly ex-officers
like himself, here and there all over Paris. Some were wait-
ers or dishwashers, some drove taxis, a few lived on women,
some had managed to bring money away from Russia and
owned garages or dancing-halls. In general, the Russian
refugees in Paris are hard-working people, and have put up
with/their bad luck far better than one can imagine Eng-
lishmen of the same class doing. There are exceptions, of
course. Boris told me of an exiled Russian duke whom he
had once met, who frequented expensive restaurants. The
duke would find out if there was a Russian officer among
the waiters, and, after he had dined, call him in a friendly
way to his table.
‘Ah,’ the duke would say, ‘so you are an old soldier, like
myself? These are bad days, eh? Well, well, the Russian sol-
dier fears nothing. And what was your regiment?’
‘The so-and-so, sir,’ the waiter would answer.
‘A very gallant regiment! I inspected them in 1912. By
the way, I have unfortunately left my notecase at home. A
Russian officer will, I know, oblige me with three hundred

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