A Fable

‘That’s all right,’ the other said. ‘Say we. Murder. It was the old dame’s fault; all she had to do was just tell us where the money was hidden and then behave herself, keep her mouth shut. Instead she had to lay there in the bed yelling her head off until we had to choke her or we never would have got to Paris——’

‘Paris,’ the second said in his wet hoarse voice.

‘Because that’s all we wanted,’ the other said. ‘All he was trying to do: we were trying to do: just to get to Paris. Only folks kept on steering him wrong, sending him off in the wrong direction, sicking the dogs on him, cops always saying Move on, move on—you know how it is. So when we threw in together that day—that was at Clermont Ferrand in ’14—we didn’t know how long he had been on the road because we didn’t know how old he was. Except that it had been a good while, he hadn’t been nothing but a kid then—You found out you were going to have to go to Paris before you even found out you were going to have to have a woman, hey, Horse?’

‘Paris,’ the second said hoarsely.

‘—working a little whenever he could find it, sleeping in stables and hedgerows until they would set the dogs or the police on him again, telling him to move on without even bothering to tell him which way he wanted to go until you would have thought nobody else in France ever heard of Paris, let alone wanted—had—to go there. Hey, Horse?’

‘Paris,’ the second said hoarsely.

‘Then we run into one another that day in Clermont and decided to throw in together and then it was all right, there was a war on then and all you had to do was get yourself inside a government blue suit and you were free of cops and civilians and the whole human race; all you needed was just to know who to salute and do it quick enough. So we took a bottle of brandy to a sergeant I knew——’

‘The human race?’ the corporal said.

‘Sure,’ the other said. ‘You might not think it to look at him, but he can move in the dark as quiet as a ghost and even see in it like a cat; turn this light off for a second and he will have that lighter out of your pocket and you wont even know it——So he was in too now——’

‘He learned that fast?’ the corporal said.

‘Of course we had to be a little careful about his hands. He never meant nothing, see: he just didn’t know himself how strong they were, like that night last month.’

‘So you got along fine then,’ the corporal said.

‘It was duck soup.—So he was in too now and now he could even ride sometimes, with the government paying for it, getting closer and closer to Paris now; not much over a year and we were all the way up to Verdun, that any boche will tell you is right next door to Paris——’

‘And still doing all right,’ the corporal said.

‘Why not? If you cant trust your money to a bank in peacetime, where else can you put it in a war except up the chimney or under the mattress or inside the clock? Or anywhere else you thought it was hidden for that matter because it didn’t matter to us; Horse here has a nose for a ten-franc note like a pig for a truffle. Until that night last month and that was the old dame’s fault; all she needed to do was tell us where it was and then lay quiet and keep her mouth shut but that didn’t suit her, she had to lay there in the bed hollering her head off until Horse here had to shut her up—you know: no harm intended: just to squeeze her throat a little until we could have a little peace and quiet to hunt for it in. Only we forgot about the hands, and when I got back——’

‘Got back?’ the corporal said.

‘I was downstairs hunting for the money.—got back, it was too late. So they caught us. And you’d have thought that would have satisfied them, especially as they even got the money back——’

‘You found the money?’ the corporal said.

‘Sure. While he was keeping her quiet.—But no, that wasn’t enough——’

‘You found the money and had got away with it, and then turned around and came back?’

‘What?’ the other said.

‘Why did you change your mind?’ the corporal said. After a second the other said:

‘Fag me again.’ The corporal gave him another cigarette. ‘Thanks,’ he said. The corporal extended the lighter. ‘Thanks,’ the other said. He snapped it and lit the cigarette and snuffed the lighter; again his two hands began the rapid and involuted gesture then stopped and in the same motion one of the hands tossed the lighter back to the corporal, the arms crossed again, palms to opposite elbows, the cigarette bobbing while he talked. ‘Where was I? oh yes.—But that didn’t suit them; just to take us out in a decent and peaceful way and shoot us wasn’t enough; they had to take Horse here off in a cellar somewhere and scare the daylights out of him. Justice, see? Protecting our rights. Just catching us wasn’t enough; we got to insist we did it. Just me saying so wasn’t enough; Horse too has got to holler it to high heaven—whatever that means. But it’s all right now. They cant stop us now.’ He turned and clapped the second man a hard quick blow on the back: ‘Paris tomorrow morning, kid. Fasten on to that.’