The Enormous Room | Page 9

the section."--"What
is his name?"--"I'm sure I don't know," I answered; mentally swearing
that, whatever might happen to me the scribe should not suffer. "At my
urgent request," I added.
Relapsing into French, Monsieur asked me if I would have any
hesitation in dropping bombs on Germans? I said no, I wouldn't. And
why did I suppose I was fitted to become aviator? Because, I told him, I
weighed 135 pounds and could drive any kind of auto or motorcycle. (I
hoped he would make me prove this assertion, in which case I
promised myself that I wouldn't stop till I got to Munich; but no.)

"Do you mean to say that my friend was not only trying to avoid
serving in the American Army but was contemplating treason as well?"
I asked.
"Well, that would be it, would it not?" he answered coolly. Then,
leaning forward once more, he fired at me: "Why did you write to an
official so high?"
At this I laughed outright. "Because the excellent sous-lieutenant who
translated when Mr. Lieutenant A. couldn't understand advised us to do
so."
Following up this sortie, I addressed the mustache: "Write this down in
the testimony--that I, here present, refuse utterly to believe that my
friend is not as sincere a lover of France and the French people as any
man living!--Tell him to write it," I commanded Noyon stonily. But
Noyon shook his head, saying: "We have the very best reason for
supposing your friend to be no friend of France." I answered: "That is
not my affair. I want my opinion of my friend written in; do you see?"
"That's reasonable," the rosette murmured; and the moustache wrote it
down.
"Why do you think we volunteered?" I asked sarcastically, when the
testimony was complete.
Monsieur le Ministre was evidently rather uncomfortable. He writhed a
little in his chair, and tweaked his chin three or four times. The rosette
and the moustache were exchanging animated phrases. At last Noyon,
motioning for silence and speaking in an almost desperate tone,
demanded:
"Est-ce-que vous détestez les boches?"
I had won my own case. The question was purely perfunctory. To walk
out of the room a free man I had merely to say yes. My examiners were
sure of my answer. The rosette was leaning forward and smiling
encouragingly. The moustache was making little ouis in the air with his
pen. And Noyon had given up all hope of making me out a criminal. I

might be rash, but I was innocent; the dupe of a superior and malign
intelligence. I would probably be admonished to choose my friends
more carefully next time and that would be all....
Deliberately, I framed the answer:
"Non. J'aime beaucoup les français."
Agile as a weasel, Monsieur le Ministre was on top of me: "It is
impossible to love Frenchmen and not to hate Germans."
I did not mind his triumph in the least. The discomfiture of the rosette
merely amused me. The surprise of the moustache I found very
pleasant.
Poor rosette! He kept murmuring desperately: "Fond of his friend, quite
right. Mistaken of course, too bad, meant well."
With a supremely disagreeable expression on his immaculate face the
victorious minister of security pressed his victim with regained
assurance: "But you are doubtless aware of the atrocities committed by
the boches?"
"I have read about them," I replied very cheerfully.
"You do not believe?"
"Ça ce peut."
"And if they are so, which of course they are" (tone of profound
conviction) "you do not detest the Germans?"
"Oh, in that case, of course anyone must detest them," I averred with
perfect politeness.
And my case was lost, forever lost. I breathed freely once more. All my
nervousness was gone. The attempt of the three gentlemen sitting
before me to endow my friend and myself with different fates had
irrevocably failed.

At the conclusion of a short conference I was told by Monsieur:
"I am sorry for you, but due to your friend you will be detained a little
while."
I asked: "Several weeks?"
"Possibly," said Monsieur.
This concluded the trial.
Monsieur le Ministre conducted me into room number 1 again. "Since I
have taken your cigarettes and shall keep them for you, I will give you
some tobacco. Do you prefer English or French?"
Because the French (paquet bleu) are stronger and because he expected
me to say English, I said "French."
With a sorrowful expression Noyon went to a sort of bookcase and took
down a blue packet. I think I asked for matches, or else he had given
back the few which he found on my person.
Noyon, t-d and the grand criminal (alias I) now descended solemnly to
the F.I.A.T. The more and more mystified conducteur conveyed us a
short distance to what