Tnere are moments when I am afraid in this atmosphere of debauchery, among all these bestial faces, heavy with alcohol and murder. But Joseph, reassures me.
" That's nothing," he says. Â«' That is good for business."
Yesterday, coming back from the market, Joseph announced, gaily rubbing his hands :
" Bad news. There is talk of a war with England."
"Oh! my God!" I cried. "Suppose Cherbourg should be bombarded ? ' '
" Pooh! Pooh! " sneered Joseph. " Only I have thought of something; I have thought of a stroke, a rich stroke."
In spite of myself I shuddered. He must be contemplating some immense rascality.
' ' The more I look at you, ' ' he said, ' ' the more I say to myself that you have not the head of a Breton. Oh ! no, you have not the head of a Bre- ton. You have rather an Alsatian head. Hey? That would make a fine show behind the bar. ' '
I was disappointed. I thought that Joseph was going to propose some terrible thing. I was proud already at the thought of being admitted to partner- ship in a bold undertaking. Whenever I see him in reflective mood, my ideas are immediately in- flamed. I imagine tragedies