d life. You cribbed
things, and you were quarrelsome when drunk. You've dirtied your ticket
in the police register, properly."

"I can't say it isn't true, because it is," says the other; "but what
have you got to do with it?"

"You'll lead a bad life again after the war, inevitably; and then
you'll have bother about that affair of the cooper."

The other becomes fierce and aggressive. "What the hell's it to do with
you? Shut your jaw!"

"As for me, I've no more family than you have. I've nobody, except
Louise--and she isn't a relation of mine, seeing we're not married. And
there are no convictions against me, beyond a few little military jobs.
There's nothing on my name."

"Well, what about it? I don't care a damn."

"I'm going to tell you. Take my name. Take it--I give it you; as long
as neither of us has any family."

"Your name?"

"Yes; you'll call yourself Leonard Carlotti, that's all. 'Tisn't a big
job. What harm can it do you? Straight off, you've no more convictions.
They won't hunt you out, and you can be as happy as I should have been
if this bullet hadn't gone through my magazine."

"Oh Christ!" said the other, "you'd do that? You'd--that--well, old
chap, that beats all!"

"Take it. It's there in my pocket-book in my greatcoat. Go on, take it,
and hand yours over to me--so that I can carry it all away with me.
You'll be able to live where you like, except where I come from, where
I'm known a bit, at Longueville in Tunis. You'll remember that? And
anyway, it's written down. You must read it, the pocket-book. I shan't
blab to anybody. To bring the trick off properly, mum's the word,
absolutely."

He ponders a moment, and then says with a shiver "I'll p'raps tell
Louise, so's she'll find I've done the right thing, and think the
better of me, when I write to her to say good-by."

But he thinks better of it, and shakes his head with an heroic effort.
"No--I shan't let on, even to her. She's her, of course, but women are
such chatterers!"

The other man looks at him, and repeats, "Ah, nome de Dieu!"

Without being noticed by the two men I leave the drama narrowly
developing in this lamentable corner and its jostling and traffic and
hubbub.

Now I touch the composed and convalescent chat of two poor
wretches--"Ah, my boy, the affection he had for that vine of his! You
couldn't find anything wrong among the branches of it--"

"That little nipper, that wee little kid, when I went out with him,
h