The Ledoux-Kid Francis fight was the night of the 20th of June. It was a good fight. The morning after the fight I had a letter from Robert Cohn, written from Hendaye. He was having a very quiet time, he said, bathing, playing some golf and much bridge. Hendaye had a splendid beach, but he was anxious to start on the fishing-trip. When would I be down? If I would buy him a double-tapered line he would pay me when I came down.
That same morning I wrote Cohn from the office that Bill and I would leave Paris on the 25th unless I wired him otherwise, and would meet him at Bayonne, where we could get a bus over the mountains to Pamplona. The same evening about seven o'clock I stopped in at the Select to see Michael and Brett. They were not there, and I went over to the Dingo. They were inside sitting at the bar.
"Hello, darling." Brett put out her hand.
"Hello, Jake," Mike said. "I understand I was tight last night."
"Weren't you, though," Brett said. "Disgraceful business."
"Look," said Mike, "when do you go down to Spain? Would you mind if we came down with you?"
"It would be grand."
"You wouldn't mind, really? I've been at Pamplona, you know. Brett's mad to go. You're sure we wouldn't just be a bloody nuisance?"
"Don't talk like a fool."
"I'm a little tight, you know. I wouldn't ask you like this if I weren't. You're sure you don't mind?"
"Oh, shut up, Michael," Brett said. "How can the man say he'd mind now? I'll ask him later."
"But you don't mind, do you?"
"Don't ask that again unless you want to make me sore. Bill and I go down on the morning of the 25th."
"By the way, where is Bill?" Brett asked.
"He's out at Chantilly dining with some people."
"He's a good chap."
"Splendid chap," said Mike. "He is, you know."
"You don't remember him," Brett said.
"I do. Remember him perfectly. Look, Jake, we'll come down the night of the 25th. Brett can't get up in the morning."
"Indeed not!"
"If our money comes and you're sure you don't mind."
"It will come, all right. I'll see to that."
"Tell me what tackle to send for."
"Get two or three rods with reels, and lines, and some flies."
"I won't fish," Brett put in.
"Get two rods, then, and Bill won't have to buy one."
"Right," said Mike. "I'll send a wire to the keeper."
"Won't it be splendid," Brett said. "Spain! We _will_ have fun."
"The 25th. When is that?"
"Saturday."
"We _will_ have to get ready."
"I say," said Mike, "I'm going to the barber's."
"I must bathe," said Brett. "Walk up to the hotel with me, Jake. Be a good chap."
"We _have_ got the loveliest hotel," Mike said. "I think it's a brothel!"
"We left our bags here at the Dingo when we got in, and they asked us at this hotel if we wanted a room for the afternoon only. Seemed frightfully pleased we were going to stay all night."
"_I_ believe it's a brothel," Mike said. "And _I_ should know."
"Oh, shut it and go and get your hair cut."
Mike went out. Brett and I sat on at the bar.
"Have another?"
"Might."
"I needed that," Brett said.
We walked up the Rue Delambre.
"I haven't seen you since I've been back," Brett said.
"No."
"How _are_ you, Jake?"
"Fine."
Brett looked at me. "I say," she said, "is Robert Cohn going on this trip?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Don't you think it will be a bit rough on him?"
"Why should it?"
"Who did you think I went down to San Sebastian with?"
"Congratulations," I said.
We walked along.
"What did you say that for?"
"I don't know. What would you like me to say?"
We walked along and turned a corner.
"He behaved rather well, too. He gets a little dull."
"Does he?"
"I rather thought it would be good for him."
"You might take up social service."
"Don't be nasty."
"I won't."
"Didn't you really know?"
"No," I said. "I guess I didn't think about it."
"Do you think it will be too rough on him?"
"That's up to him," I said. "Tell him you're coming. He can always not come."
"I'll write him and give him a chance to pull out of it."
I did not see Brett again until the night of the 24th of June.
"Did you hear from Cohn?"
"Rather. He's keen about it."
"My God!"
"I thought it was rather odd myself."
"Says he can't wait to see me."
"Does he think you're coming alone?"
"No. I told him we were all coming down together. Michael and all."
"He's wonderful."
"Isn't he?"
They expected their money the next day. We arranged to meet at Pamplona. They would go directly to San Sebastian and take the train from there. We would all meet at the Montoya in Pamplona. If they did not turn up on Monday at the latest we would go on ahead up to Burguete in the mountains, to start fishing. There was a bus to Burguete. I wrote out an itinerary so they could follow us.
Bill and I took the morning train from the Gare d'Orsay. It was a lovely day, not too hot, and the country was beautiful from the start. We went back into the diner and had breakfast. Leaving the dining-car I asked the conductor for tickets for the first service.
"Nothing until the fifth."
"What's this?"
There were never more than two servings of lunch on that train, and always plenty of places for both of them.
"They're all reserved," the dining-car conductor said. "There will be a fifth service at three-thirty."
"This is serious," I said to Bill.
"Give him ten francs."
"Here," I said. "We want to eat in the first service."
The conductor put the ten francs in his pocket.
"Thank you," he said. "I would advise you gentlemen to get some sandwiches. All the places for the first four services were reserved at the office of the company."
"You'll go a long way, brother," Bill said to him in English. "I suppose if I'd given you five francs you would have advised us to jump off the train."
"_Comment?_"
"Go to hell!" said Bill. "Get the sandwiches made and a bottle of wine. You tell him, Jake."
"And send it up to the next car." I described where we were.
In our compartment were a man and his wife and their young son.
"I suppose you're Americans, aren't you?" the man asked. "Having a good trip?"
"Wonderful," said Bill.
"That's what you want to do. Travel while you're young. Mother and I always wanted to get over, but we had to wait a while."
"You could have come over ten years ago, if you'd wanted to," the wife said. "What you always said was: 'See America first!' I will say we've seen a good deal, take it one way and another."
"Say, there's plenty of Americans on this train," the husband said. "They've got seven cars of them from Dayton, Ohio. They've been on a pilgrimage to Rome, and now they're going down to Biarritz and Lourdes."
"So, that's what they are. Pilgrims. Goddam Puritans," Bill said.
"What part of the States you boys from?"
"Kansas City," I said. "He's from Chicago."
"You both going to Biarritz?"
"No. We're going fishing in Spain."
"Well, I never cared for it, myself. There's plenty that do out where I come from, though. We got some of the best fishing in the State of Montana. I've been out with the boys, but I never cared for it any."
"Mighty little fishing you did on them trips," his wife said.
He winked at us.
"You know how the ladies are. If there's a jug goes along, or a case of beer, they think it's hell and damnation."
"That's the way men are," his wife said to us. She smoothed her comfortable lap. "I voted against prohibition to please him, and because I like a little beer in the house, and then he talks that way. It's a wonder they ever find any one to marry them."
"Say," said Bill, "do you know that gang of Pilgrim Fathers have cornered the dining-car until half past three this afternoon?"
"How do you mean? They can't do a thing like that."
"You try and get seats."
"Well, mother, it looks as though we better go back and get another breakfast."
She stood up and straightened her dress.
"Will you boys keep an eye on our things? Come on, Hubert."
They all three went up to the wagon restaurant. A little while after they were gone a steward went through announcing the first service, and pilgrims, with their priests, commenced filing down the corridor. Our friend and his family did not come back. A waiter passed in the corridor with our sandwiches and the bottle of Chablis, and we called him in.
"You're going to work to-day," I said.
He nodded his head. "They start now, at ten-thirty."
"When do we eat?"
"Huh! When do I eat?"
He left two glasses for the bottle, and we paid him for the sandwiches and tipped him.
"I'll get the plates," he said, "or bring them with you."
We ate the sandwiches and drank the Chablis and watched the country out of the window. The grain was just beginning to ripen and the fields were full of poppies. The pastureland was green, and there were fine trees, and sometimes big rivers and chateaux off in the trees.
At Tours we got off and bought another bottle of wine, and when we got back in the compartment the gentleman from Montana and his wife and his son, Hubert, were sitting comfortably.
"Is there good swimming in Biarritz?" asked Hubert.
"That boy's just crazy till he can get in the watei" his mother said. "It's pretty hard on youngsters travelling."
"There's good swimming," I said. "But it's dangerous when it's rough."
"Did you get a meal?" Bill asked.
"We sure did. We set right there when they started to come in, and they must have just thought we were in the party. One of the waiters said something to us in French, and then they just sent three of them back."
"They thought we were snappers, all right," the man said. "It certainly shows you the power of the Catholic Church. It's a pity you boys ain't Catholics. You could get a meal, then, all right."
"I am," I said. "That's what makes me so sore."
Finally at a quarter past four we had lunch. Bill had been rather difficult at the last. He buttonholed a priest who was coming back with one of the returning streams of pilgrims.
"When do us Protestants get a chance to eat, father?"
"I don't know anything about it. Haven't you got tickets?"
"It's enough to make a man join the Klan," Bill said. The priest looked back at him.
Inside the dining-car the waiters served the fifth successive table d'h?te meal. The waiter who served us was soaked through. His white jacket was purple under the arms.
"He must drink a lot of wine."
"Or wear purple undershirts."
"Let's ask him."
"No. He's too tired."
The train stopped for half an hour at Bordeaux and we went out through the station for a little walk. There was not time to get in to the town. Afterward we passed through the Landes and watched the sun set. There were wide fire-gaps cut through the pines, and you could look up them like avenues and see wooded hills way off. About seven-thirty we had dinner and watched the country through the open window in the diner. It was all sandy pine country full of heather. There were little clearings with houses in them, and once in a while we passed a sawmill. It got dark and we could feel the country hot and sandy and dark outside of the window, and about nine o'clock we got into Bayonne. The man and his wife and Hubert all shook hands with us. They were going on to LaNegresse to change for Biarritz.
"Well, I hope you have lots of luck," he said.
"Be careful about those bull-fights."
"Maybe we'll see you at Biarritz," Hubert said.
We got off with our bags and rod-cases and passed through the dark station and out to the lights and the line of cabs and hotel buses. There, standing with the hotel runners, was Robert Cohn. He did not see us at first. Then he started forward.
"Hello, Jake. Have a good trip?"
"Fine," I said. "This is Bill Gorton."
"How are you?"
"Come on," said Robert. "I've got a cab." He was a little near-sighted. I had never noticed it before. He was looking at Bill, trying to make him out. He was shy, too.
"We'll go up to my hotel. It's all right. It's quite nice."
We got into the cab, and the cabman put the bags up on the seat beside him and climbed up and cracked his whip, and we drove over the dark bridge and into the town.
"I'm awfully glad to meet you," Robert said to Bill. "I've heard so much about you from Jake and I've read your books. Did you get my line, Jake?"
The cab stopped in front of the hotel and we all got out and went in. It was a nice hotel, and the people at the desk were very cheerful, and we each had a good small room.
莱杜对小子弗朗西斯的拳击赛于六月二十日夜间举行。是一场精彩的拳击赛。比赛的第二天早晨，我收到罗伯特.科恩从昂代寄来的信。信中写道，他的生活非常平静：游泳，有时玩玩高尔夫球，经常打桥牌。昂代的海滨特别美，但是他急不及待地要钓鱼去。问我什么时候到那里。如果我给他买到双丝钓线的话，等我去了就把钱还给我。
同一天上午，我在编辑部写信告诉科恩，我和比尔将于二十五日离开巴黎，如有变化另行电告，并约他在巴荣纳会面，然后可以从那里搭长途汽车翻山到潘普洛纳。同一天晚上七点左右，我路经“雅士”，进去找迈克尔和勃莱特。他们不在，我就跑到“丁戈”。他们在里面酒吧柜前坐着。
“你好，亲爱的。”勃莱特伸出手来。“你好，杰克，”迈克说。“现在我明白昨晚我醉了。”“嘿，可不，”勃莱特说。“真丢人。”“嗨，”迈克说，“你什么时候到西班牙去？我们跟你一块儿去行吗？”
“那再好不过了。”
“你真的不嫌弃我们？你知道，我去过潘普洛纳。勃莱特非常想去。你们不会把我们当作累赘吧？”
“别胡说。”
“你知道，我有点醉了。不醉我也不会这样问你。你肯定愿意吧？”
“别问了，迈克尔，”勃莱特说。“现在他怎么能说不愿意呢？以后我再问他。”
“你不反对吧，是不是？”
“如果你不是存心要我恼火，就别再问了。我和比尔在二十五日早晨动身。”
“哟，比尔在哪儿？”勃莱特问。
“他上香蒂利跟朋友吃饭去了。”
“他是个好人，”
“是个大好人，”迈克说。“是的，你知道。”
“你不会记得他了，”勃莱特说。
“记得。我完全记得。听着，杰克，我们二十五日晚上走。勃莱特早上起不来，”
“当真起不来！”
“要是我们收到了汇款，你又不反对的话。”“钱肯定能汇到。我来去办。”“告诉我，要叫寄来什么钓鱼用具。”“弄两三根带卷轴的钓竿，还有钓线，一些蝇形钩。”
“我不想钓鱼，”勃莱特插嘴说。
“那么弄两根钓竿就行了，比尔用不着买了。”
“好，”迈克说。“我给管家的打个电报。”
“太好了，”勃莱特说。“西班牙！我们一定会玩得非常痛快。”
“二十五号。星期几？”
“星期六。”
“我们就得准备了。”
“嗨，”迈克说，“我要理发去。”
“我必须洗个澡，”勃莱特说。“陪我走到旅馆去，杰克。乖乖的听话啊。”
“我们住的这家旅馆是再妙不过的了，”迈克说。“我看象是家妓院！”
“我们一到，就把旅行包寄存在‘丁戈’。旅馆人员问我们开房间是不是只要半天。听说我们要在旅馆过夜，他们乐得够呛。”
“我相信这旅馆是家妓院，”迈克说。“我哪能不知道。”
“哼，别叨叨了，快去把头发理理。”
迈克走了。我和勃莱特继续坐在酒吧柜边。
“再来一杯？”
“行吧。”
“我需要喝点，”勃莱特说。
我们走在迪兰伯路上。
“我这次回来后一直没见到你，”勃莱特说。
“是的。”
“你好吗，杰克？”
“很好。”勃莱特看着我。“我说，”她说，“这次旅行罗伯特.科恩也去吗？“去。怎么啦？”
“你想这是不是会使他多少感到难堪？”
“为什么会这样？”
“你看我到圣塞瓦斯蒂安是和谁一起去的？”
“恭喜你了，”我说。
我们往前走着。
“你说这话干吗？”
“不知道。你要我说什么？”
我们向前走，拐了一个弯。
“他表现得很不错。他后来变得有点乏味。”
“是吗？”
“我原以为这对他会有好处。”
“你大可以搞社会公益事业。”
“别这样恶劣。”
“不敢。”
“你真的不知道？”
“不知道，”我说。“也许我没有想起过。”
“你想这一来会不会使他过于难堪？”
“那得由他来决定，”我说。“写信告诉他，你也要去。他可以随时决定不去的嘛。”
“我就写信，让他来得及退出这次旅行。”
一直到六月二十四日晚上，我才再次见到勃莱特。
“科恩回信了吗？”
“当然。他对这次旅行可热心哪。”
“我的上帝！”
“我自己也觉得这事实在奇怪。”
“他说他急不及待地要看看我。”
“他会不会想你是单独去的？”
“不会。我告诉他我们大伙儿一起去。迈克尔和我们大家。”
“他可真不同凡响。”
“可不！”
他们预期钱将在第二天汇来。我们约好在潘普洛纳会面。他们准备直接到圣塞瓦斯蒂安，在那里搭火车前去。我们要在潘普洛纳的蒙托亚旅馆会师。如果他们迟至星期一还不到达，我们就自行朝北到山区的布尔戈特，开始钓鱼。有长途汽车通往布尔戈特。我写了一份行程计划，好让他们跟着我们来。
我和比尔乘早车离开道赛车站。天气晴朗，不太热，一出城就是一派悦目的田园风光。我们走进后面的餐车吃早饭。离开餐车时，我跟乘务员索取第一批就餐券。
“前四批都发完，只有第五批了。”
“这是怎么搞的？”
在那次列车上，午饭一向最多只供应两批，而且每批都有不少座位。
“都预订完了，”餐车乘务员说。“第五批在三点半供应。”
“这问题严重了，”我对比尔说。
“给他十法郎。”
“给，”我说。“我们想在第一批用餐。”
乘务员把十法郎放进口袋。“谢谢您，”他说。“我劝先生们买点三明治。头四批的座位在铁路办事处就预订出去了。”
“你前途无量，老兄，”比尔用英语对他说。“要是给你五法郎，我想你大概会建议我们跳车了。”
“Comment？”
“见鬼去吧！”比尔说。“做点三明治，再来瓶酒。你跟他说，杰克。”
“送到隔壁车厢。”我详细告诉他我们的座位在哪里。
我们的单间里还有一对夫妇和他们的小儿子。
“我看你们是美国人，对不？”男人问。“旅途愉快吗？”
“非常愉快，”比尔说。
“你们做对了。旅行得趁年轻。我和孩子他妈早就打算到欧洲来，但是却迟迟没有走成。”
“如果你真想，十年前就能来了，”他妻子说。“你老是说什么‘先在美国观光’！不管你怎么看，我可以说我们观光过的地方倒是不少了。”
“嗨，在这列车上有好多美国人，”男人说。“他们来自俄亥俄州的达顿，占了七个车厢。他们到罗马朝了圣，现在去比亚里茨和卢尔德。”
“原来他们是这号人。朝圣信徒。该死的清教徒，”比尔说。
“你们两位年轻人是美国的什么地方人？”
“我是堪萨斯城人，”我说。“他是芝加哥人。”
“你们俩都去比亚里茨？”
“不。我们到西班牙去钓鱼。”
“哦，我自己向来不喜欢这个。可在我的家乡有很多人爱好。我们蒙大拿州有几个满好的钓鱼场所。我同孩子们去过，但是从来不感兴趣。”
“你那几回出去，可也没少钓鱼啊，”他妻子说。
他朝我们眨眨眼睛。
“你知道娘儿们是什么回事。见到一罐酒或是一箱啤酒，她们就大惊小怪，认为天要塌下来了。”
“男人才那样哩， ” 他妻子对我们说。她安详地捋捋平她膝部的裙子下摆。“为了讨好他，我投票反对禁酒，因为我喜欢在家里喝一点啤酒，可他竞用这副样子说话。这种人竟能讨到老婆，真是怪事。”
“喂，”比尔说，“那帮清教徒把餐车给包了，要占用到下午三点半，你知不知道？”
“你说什么？他们不会干出这等事来的。”
“你去试试找两个座吧。”
“唷，孩子他妈，看样子我们还是回去再吃顿早饭的好。”
她站起来，整整衣裙。
“请你们照看一下我们的东西好吗？走吧，休伯特。”
他们一行三人到餐车去了。他们走了不一会儿，茶房穿过车厢通知第一批用餐，那批信徒和他们中的几位神父，开始结队通过走廊。我们的朋友及其一家没有回来。一名侍音端着三明治和一瓶夏布利白葡萄酒从我们这节车厢的走廊上走过，我们招呼他进来。
“今天你有的是活儿干啦，”我说。
他点点头。“现在十点半，他们开始了。”
“我们什么时候能吃上？”
“哼！我什么时候能吃上？”他放下酒瓶外加两个杯子，我们付了三明治的钱，给了小费。
“一会儿我来拿盘子，”他说，“要不你们顺手给捎过来。”
我们一边吃三明治、喝夏布利酒，一边观赏窗外的乡间风光。庄稼开始成熟，地里盛开着罂粟花。绿茸茸的牧场，如画的树林。时而闪过大河和掩映在树林之中的古堡。
在图尔我们下车买了一瓶酒。等我们回到单间，从蒙大拿来的先生和他妻子以及儿子休伯特已经舒舒服服地坐在里面了。
“在比亚里茨有好浴场吗？”休伯特问。
“这孩子不泡在水里就象着了魔一样，”他母亲说。“这么大的孩子出门旅行也真够呛。”
“在那里游泳可好哩，”我说。“不过有风浪的时候很危险。”
“你们吃到饭了？”比尔问。
“当然吃过了。他们开始进去的时候，我们已经坐好了，他们准以为我们是同伙。一个侍者跟我们说了几句法语，他们就打发其中的三个人回去了。”
“他们以为我们是磕头虫呢，”那个男的说。“由此可见天主教会的权势。可惜你们两位不是天主教徒。不然你们就吃上饭了。”
“我是天主教徒，”我说。“就因为这样，我才感到这么恼火。”
等到四点一刻，我们才吃上午饭。比尔最后发火了。他拦住了一位领着一行吃完饭的清教徒往回走的神父。
“什么时候能轮上我们这些新教徒吃饭，神父？”
“这件事我一点也不清楚。你拿到就餐券没有？”
“这种行径足以逼一个人去投奔三K党，”比尔说。神父回头盯了他一眼。
在餐车里，侍者们供应第五批公司菜。给我们端菜的那名侍者被汗水湿透了。他白外套的腋窝处染成了紫红色。
“他一定是喝了很多葡萄酒。”
“要不他里头穿着一件紫红色的汗衫。”
“我们来问问他。”
“别问啦。他太累了。”
火车在波尔多停半个钟头，我们下车在车站上溜达了一下。进城可来不及了。后来列车穿过兰兹省，我们观看日落。松林中开出一道道宽阔的防火带，望过去象一条条大街，远方尽头处是覆盖着树木的山丘。我们七点半左右吃晚饭，在餐车里，从敞开的窗户了望原野。这是一片长着松树的沙地，长满了石南。有几小块空地上座落着几座房屋，偶尔驶过一个锯木厂。天黑下来了，但我们仍能感觉到窗外伸展着一片燠热、多沙而黑暗的土地。九点左右，我们开进巴荣纳。那对夫妇和休伯特一一同我们握手。他们要继续前行，到拉内格里斯镇转车去比亚里茨。
“好，希望你们一切顺利，”男的说。
“在那里看斗牛要多加小心。”
“在比亚里茨我们也许还能见面，”休伯特说。我们背着旅行包和钓竿袋下了车，穿过昏暗的车站，走上明亮的广场，那里排着一列出租马车和旅馆的接客公共汽车。罗伯特.科恩在旅馆接待员的人群里站着。他起初没有看见我们。后来他才走上前来。
“嗨，杰克。旅途愉快吗？”
“很好，”我说。“这位是比尔.格伦迪。”
“你好？”
“走吧，”罗伯特说。“我雇了一辆马车。”他有点近视。过去我从没注意到。他紧盯着比尔，想看个清楚。他也感到不好意思。
“都到我住的旅馆去吧。旅馆还说得过去。相当不错。”
我们上了马车，车夫把旅行包放在他身旁的座位上，爬上驾驶座，抽了个响鞭，车子驶过黑洞洞的桥，进了城。
“我见到你实在太高兴了，”罗伯特对比尔说。“杰克对我讲过你很多情况，我还读过你的那几本书。你把我的钓线带来了没有，杰克？”
马车在旅馆门前停下，我们全都下车走进旅馆。旅馆很舒适，柜台上的接待员非常和蔼可亲。我们每人弄到了一个舒适的小房间。