u write me
so ridiculous a letter? I laugh, but always I laugh, so what good is that
to you? I will not reply to your letter, mon vieux--jamais. But I will tell
you so that you may know why I am here. Yes, parmi les animaux!

Birnier winced at the phrase which seemed to come back at him like a
boomerang from the lips of zu Pfeiffer.

I am to go for vacation to Wiesbaden with some very terrible peoples. Oh,
on me degoute! I have an engagement for the winter in Berlin as before. I
have engagement for Paris--eh! but--pouf! Figure me on the charming
_Mauretania_ and I am sitting on the deck where you once made yourself so
ridiculous. Rappelle toi? I am sick--No, mon vieux, pas du mal de mer! I
should not be for everybody to look at. Oh, no! I am sick, I tell you. Je
reve de mon petit coco parmi les sales animaux! Je me dis: Zut! il est
fou! il est tape! Mais en moi meme je l'adore! Tout de suite I tell a
creature who brings me my books, my fan, un espece de tapette, je m'en
vais la, moi! He ask me where? I tell him I go to look for mon amant in
Afrique Centrale! Mais oui! He thinks I am mad! I tell him so and I laugh!
How I laugh. But he is right, yes, je suis folle--de toi!

Alors I come to Marseilles and I catch a boat to Mombassa. Ouf! Je vais
mourir a cause de mon petit loup! La mer rouge! Quel cauchemar! Enfin I
still arrive what of Lucille is left and I ask for you, for Monsieur le
Professeur Americain, but no one knows you. On the boat I have attached to
myself trois mousquetaires Anglais. Tous les trois sont droles! They bring
me on the ever so funny little train to here. Entebbe. Les Anglais sont
tres polis, tu sais! Monsieur le Gouverneur stop drinking whisky politely
to tell me that Monsieur has been and has gone! Quelle horreur! You have
gone but three days! Pense tu! I ask myself what have I done that the bon
Dieu should be so unkind. Then quel malheur! I remember to myself that I
commence to come to you on _Friday!_ You laugh! Yes, I laugh too but--Quien
sabe? I commence to come to you on a Friday and you are gone three little
days!

Then my good friends, les trois mousquetaires, send for me a what they
call a runner--the red peas--C'est drole! but the little pea black he did
not find you. He brings a message that you had gone to some place with a
terrible name.

Then come the two most ridiculous letters. I will _not_ reply to any such
ridiculous letters--jamais!

Birnier scowled. Two letters? he muttere