A Man in Uniform Read Online Free PDF Page A

really, Madame, you mistook me. My work continues to keep me busy. It would be no kind of life for a woman,” Masson replied.
    “Nonetheless, you are not traveling so much these days.”
    “Not so much.”
    “But you are still keeping us safe from the Germans?”
    “I do my best, Madame. They are, however, a formidable force.”
    Dubon thought he detected a double irony here, as Masson, adopting the pose of one humbly accepting praise for keeping an entire nation secure, seemed to mock his own false modesty.
    But if the man was anything less than sincere, Madame Fiteau did not notice, and she explained eagerly to Madame Verry, “The Baron de Masson is one of our great allies in government. The general always says you show a remarkable understanding of military affairs for a civilian, Baron.”
    “He flatters me, Madame.”
    “What we need is another war,” Madame Verry interrupted with vehemence.
    “Another war, Madame?” Dubon asked, surprised.
    “Yes, smash the Germans once and for all, pay them back for all the horrible things they have done.”
    Her anger seemed out of place at a party and was embarrassing hercompanions. Dubon could not think what to say, but Masson stepped in suavely.
    “A decisive victory, you think? That is what is required?”
    “Of course that is what is required. The government doesn’t give the army what it needs. I mean, the English, say what you will about the English, but at least they know who keeps them safe. They don’t stint their army or their navy. You wouldn’t catch them letting the troops wander about in ragged uniforms.”
    Dubon wondered to himself if Lieutenant Verry—he assumed the man was only a lieutenant—was not too short of cash to have his uniforms made by a good tailor.
    “Our politicians just don’t understand,” the lady continued. “All this talk about cutting the workweek. Nonsense put forward by the unions. The Socialists will ruin this country, just like they tried to in 1871. How are we ever going to win a war if men are afraid of a solid day’s work? And the government panders to them; those politicians and bureaucrats, they’d rather not work themselves.”
    Masson raised an amused eyebrow for Dubon’s benefit, but Madame Verry appeared not to notice she had insulted the baron’s profession and sailed on.
    “The army is not afraid of hard work—it can do the job—but it has to have the resources to do it.”
    “You are entirely right, Madame. One can’t make something out of nothing,” Masson said smoothly. “And where did you say your husband is garrisoned? Ah yes, in Tongkin. Fascinating place.” He moved the conversation adroitly toward a discussion of the wondrous Orient until the music stopped and Dubon realized he must now take charge of the angry little Madame Verry.
    He placed his arm around her and guided her confidently onto the dance floor. He thought nothing more tedious than women who attempted to maintain a serious conversation while dancing; he always found vague compliments and mild encouragement whispered in the lady’s ear were all that was required, but Madame Verry was not to be dissuaded from her tirade and kept it up around the dance floor.
    “Oh, entirely, Madame,” Dubon shouted at her as he repositioned a gloved hand on her bony back and directed her away from aparticularly exuberant couple rounding them on the left. “The army was never properly supported during the last war; the mistake should not be repeated.”
    He certainly hoped the mistake would not be repeated. He didn’t blame the army for France’s defeat at Germany’s hands; he blamed it on Napoléon III’s failure as a diplomat and tactician, and the last thing the new republic needed was another such fiasco. He didn’t think it was worth clarifying his position to Madame Verry, however. She could hardly have been more than a babe in arms at the time of the war. As she opened her mouth again, he quickly interrupted her to point this