V 'QUEJ.LE nOMME r 277 



ol a kitchen. 'This gentleman here has twelve 

 children.' 



'How many?' exclaimed stout Madame Bonne. 

 'Twelve children? Impossible!' 



That's right,' I said. 'He's had twelve.' 



'Quel homincf She smoothed his stubby hair 

 like a mother. 'Qiif-'l Jiominc! Jc vais liii donner 

 du bon po'issou, vite, vitcf 



Jim smiled, and waMggled like a dog that knows 

 it is being talked about. The interpreter drank 

 deep to all his family. 



'I've got,' I said, 'a sister whose husband is 

 one of nineteen.' 



'What! Nineteen! Of the same wife?' 



'Yes. And the uncle of my brother-in-law 

 has had tw-enty-one.' 



Madame Bonne cast up her hands, I had but 

 told the truth; had labelled myself I'uir; a liar 

 so competent that the interpreter troubled us no 

 more. 



After dinner Jim despatched postcards to all 

 his family, smoked some black French cigarettes, 

 was very ill indeed, and went to bed. 



During the night we w'ere awakened. People 

 were chattering and shouting below. Carts rattled 

 over the setts. Silly-sounding little horns tootled 



