OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University

22 MAINLY MAIGRET
" Were you in this coach? "
" Well •. • yes."
" Your passport, please. Thank you. Anything to declare? Any
jewellery, valuables, new clothes? "
Elie shook his head.
He was half asleep. His clothes were soiled and crumpled. His
handkerchief was a sodden, grimy ball.
Jeumont. Erquelines. Red-brick houses. Windows with snowwhite
curtains, ferns in copper pots. Public-houses. Cafi de la Gore.
Estamineu Khaki uniforms instead of blue.
And always, parallel with the line, the Meuse, with long strings
of barges towed by stocky little tugs, whistling impatiently at the
lock-gates.
The door of the compartment opened. A young man in dark
uniform enquired:
" Breakfast, sir? Breakfast will be served immediately after
Namur."
On the point of saying " No," Elie took the small red ticket diat
was handed him, reserving a seat in the dining-car.
He got out at Namur. At last he knew the time. The big stationclock,
with a garishly white dial and hands so black that they seemed
painted in indian ink, informed him it was eleven.
" When's the next train to Brussels? "
" Twelve-ten."
He was too exhausted to go out of the station, and settled down
in the third-class waiting-room, where there were most people.
Everyone had a dripping umbrella, and the floor was covered with
puddles; even the varnished wooden benches had a coat of moisture.
On the far side of a glazed door white-aproned waiters were
hurrying to and fro, and tables were laid. But Elie didn't feel like
sitting down to a meal. He went up to the buffet and pointed to a
pile of sandwiches.
"A pistoleti" asked the plump ydung woman behind the
counter.
"A 'pistolet'?" he asked irritably. "What the devil do you
mean? "
" That's what we call 'em here, in Belgium."
" Why can't you call them ' sandwiches,' like everybody else?
... All right, I'll take three."
But he only managed to get through half a sandwich as he paced
up and down the third-class waiting-room.