Page 68 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

and I’ve stolen another bottle. We’ll have a fine booze.’
We had an excellent dinner from the leavings of the
higher employees. The waiter, grown mellow, told me sto-
ries about his love-affairs, and about two men whom he had
stabbed in Italy, and about how he had dodged Us military
service. He was a good fellow when one got to know him;
he reminded me of Benvenuto Cellini, somehow. I was tired
and drenched with sweat, but I felt a new man after a day’s
solid food. The work did not seem difficult, and I felt that
this job would suit me. It was not certain, however, that it
would continue, for I had been engaged as an ‘extra’ for the
day only, at twenty-five francs. The sour-faced doorkeeper
counted out the money, less fifty centimes which he said
was for insurance (a lie, I discovered afterwards). Then he
stepped out into the passage, made me take off my coat, and
carefully prodded me all over, searching for stolen food. Af-
ter this the CHEF DU PERSONNEL appeared and spoke
to me. Like the waiter, he had grown more genial on seeing
that I was willing to work.
‘We will give you a permanent job if you like,’ he said.
‘The head waiter says he would enjoy calling an Englishman
names. Will you sign on for a month?’
Here was a job at last, and I was ready to jump at it. Then
I remembered the Russian restaurant, due to open in a fort-
night. It seemed hardly fair to promise working a month,
and then leave in the middle. I said that I had other work in
prospect—could I be engaged for a fortnight? But at that the
CHEF DU PERSONNEL shrugged his shoulders and said
that the hotel only engaged men by the month. Evidently I