Down and Out in Paris and London Read Online Free Page A

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    —evidently it was worth nothing. It fell to the ground and
    came open, displaying four pairs of men’s woollen pants.
    No one could help laughing. Poor NUMERO 83 gathered
    up his pants and shambled out, muttering to himself.
    The clothes I was pawning, together with the suitcase,
    had cost over twenty pounds, and were in good condition.
    I thought they must be worth ten pounds, and a quarter
    of this (one expects quarter value at a pawnshop) was two
    hundred and fifty or three hundred francs. I waited without
    anxiety, expecting two hundred francs at the worst.
    At last the clerk called my number: ‘NUMERO 97!’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, standing up.
    ‘Seventy francs?’
    Seventy francs for ten pounds’ worth of clothes! But it
    was no use arguing; I had seen someone else attempt to ar-
    gue, and the clerk had instantly refused the pledge. I took
    the money and the pawnticket and walked out. I had now
    no clothes except what I stood up in—the coat badly out
    at the elbow—an overcoat, moderately pawnable, and one
    spare shirt. Afterwards, when it was too late, I learned that
    it was wiser to go to a pawnshop in the afternoon. The clerks
    are French, and, like most French people, are in a bad tem-
    per till they have eaten their lunch.
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    When I got home, Madame F. was sweeping the BISTRO
    floor. She came up the steps to meet me. I could see in her
    eye that she was uneasy about my rent.
    ‘Well,’ she said, ‘what did you get for your clothes? Not
    much, eh?’
    ‘Two hundred francs,’ I said promptly.
    ‘TIENS!’ she said, surprised; ‘well, THAT’S not bad.
    How expensive those English clothes must be!’
    The lie saved a lot of trouble, and, strangely enough, it
    came true. A few days later I did receive exactly two hun-
    dred francs due to me for a newspaper article, and, though
    it hurt to do it, I at once paid every penny of it in rent. So,
    though I came near to starving in the following weeks, I
    was hardly ever without a roof.
    It was now absolutely necessary to find work, and I re-
    membered a friend of mine, a Russian waiter named Boris,
    who might be able to help me. I had first met him in the
    public ward of a hospital, where he was being treated for ar-
    thritis in the left leg. He had told me to come to him if I were
    ever in difficulties.
    I must say something about Boris, for he was a curi-
    ous character and my close friend for a long time. He was
    a big, soldierly man of about thirty-five, and had been good
    looking, but since his illness he had grown immensely fat
    from lying in bed. Like most Russian refugees, he had had
    an adventurous life. His parents, killed in the Revolution,
    had been rich people, and he had served through the war
    in the Second Siberian Rifles, which, according to him,
    was the best regiment in the Russian Army. After the war

    Down and Out in Paris and London
    he had first worked in a brush factory, then as a porter at
    Les Halles, then had become a dishwasher, and had finally
    worked his way up to be a waiter. When he fell ill he was at
    the Hotel Scribe, and taking a hundred francs a day in tips.
    His ambition was to become a MAITRE D’HOTEL, save
    fifty thousand francs, and set up a small, select restaurant
    on the Right Bank.
    Boris always talked of the war as the happiest time of
    his life. War and soldiering were his passion; he had read
    innumerable books of strategy and military history, and
    could tell you all about the theories of Napoleon, Kutuzof,
    Clausewitz, Moltke and Foch. Anything to do with soldiers
    pleased him. His favourite cafe was the Gloserie des Lilas in
    Montparnasse, simply because the statue of Marshal Ney
    stands outside it. Later on, Boris and I sometimes went to
    the rue du Commerce together. If we went by Metro, Boris
    always got out at Cambronne station instead of Commerce,
    though Commerce was nearer; he liked the association with
    General Cambronne, who was called on to surrender at