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U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [224]

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êpes pro-vençale the north wind was shril ing over the plains of the Camargue hustling us into Marseil es where the eleven thousand were dandling themselves in the fogged mirrors of the promenoir at the Apol o oysters and vin de Cassis petite fil e tel ement brune tête de lune qui amait les veentair sports in the end they were al slot machines undressed as Phocean figurines posted with their legs apart around the scummy edges of the oldest port

the Riviera was a letdown but there was a candycol-ored church with a pointed steeple on every hil beyond

-149-San Remo Porto Maurizio blue seltzerbottles stand-ing in the cinzanocolored sunlight beside a glass of VER-MOUTH TORINO Savona was set for the Merchant of Venice painted by Veronese Ponte Decimo in Ponte Decimo ambulances were parked in a moonlit square of bleak stone, workingpeople's houses hoarfrost covered everything in the little bar the Successful Story Writer taught us to drink cognac and maraschino half and half havanuzzerone

it turned out he was not writing what he felt he

wanted to be writing What can you tel them at home about the war? it turned out he was not wanting what he wrote he wanted to be feeling cognac and mara-schino was no longer young (It made us damn sore we greedy for what we felt we wanted tel 'em al they lied see new towns go to Genoa) havanuzzerone? it

turned out that he wished he was a naked brown shep-herd boy sitting on a hil side playing a flute in the sunlight going to Genoa was easy enough the streetcar went there Genoa the new town we'd never seen ful of marble doges and breakneck stairs marble lions in the moon-light Genoa was, the ancient ducal city burning?

al the marble palaces and the square stone houses and the campaniles topping hil s had one marble wal on fire bonfire under the moon

the bars were ful of Britishers overdressed civilians strol ing under porticoes outside the harbor under the

-150-Genoa moon the sea was on fire the member of His Majesty's Intel igence Service said it was a Yankee tanker had struck a mine? been torpedoed? why don't they scut-tle her?

Genoa eyes flared with the light of the burning

tanker Genoa what are you looking for? the flare

in the blood under the moon down the midnight streets in boys' and girls' faces Genoa eyes the question in their eyes

through the crumbling stone courts under the Genoa

moon up and down the breakneck stairs eyes on fire under the moon round the next corner ful in your face the flare of the bonfire on the sea

11,000 registered harlots said the Red Cross Publicity Man infest the streets of Marseil es

JOE WILLIAMS

It was a lousy trip. Joe was worried al the time about Del and about not making good and the deckcrew was a bunch of soreheads. The engines kept breaking down. The Higginbotham was built like a cheesebox and so slow there were days when they didn't make more'n thirty or forty miles against moderate head winds. The only good times he had was taking boxing lessons from the second en-gineer, a fel ow named Glen Hardwick. He was a little wiry guy, who was a pretty good amateur boxer, though he must have been forty years old. By the time they

-151-got to Bordeaux Joe was able to give him a good workout. He was heavier and had a better reach and Glen said he'd a straight natural right that would take him far as a lightweight.

In Bordeaux the first port official that came on board tried to kiss Cap'n Perry on both checks. President Wilson had just declared war on Germany. Al over the town nothing was too good for Les Americains. Evenings when they were off Joe and Glen Hardwick cruised around to-gether. The Bordeaux girls were damn pretty. They met up with a couple one afternoon in the public garden that weren't hookers at al . They were nicely dressed and looked like they came of good families, what the hel it was wartime. At first Joe thought he ought to lay off that stuff now that he was married, but hel , hadn't Del held out on him. What did she think he was, a plaster saint?

They ended by going to a little hotel the girls knew and eating supper and drinking beaucoup wine and champagne and having a big party. Joe had never had such a good time with a girl in his life. His girl's name was Marceline and when they woke up in the morning the help at the hotel brought them in coffee and rol s and they ate break-fast, both of 'em sitting up in bed and Joe's French began to pick up and he learned how to say C'est la guerre and On les aura and Je m'en fiche and Marceline said she'd always be his sweetie when he was in Bordeaux and cal ed him petit lapin.

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