'twould be as well to accept ce beau Luigi at once, marry him immediately, and see that he spent his evenings helping in the Canteen bar, instead of gallivanting after Neapolitan hussies of the bazaar. Men are but men—and sirens are sirens. What would you? And Luigi so gay and popular. Small blame that he should stray when Madame was unkind or coy. … Yes, she would do it, if only to spite this Neapolitan cat. … But—he was a foreigner and something of a rogue—and incredibly strong. Still, Madame had tamed more than one recalcitrant husband by knocking the bottom off an empty bottle and stabbing him in the face with it. And however strong one's husband might be, he must, like Sisera, sleep sometimes.
The beautiful Luigi would hate to be awakened with a bottomless bottle, and would not need it more than once. … And the business soul of scheming, but amorous Madame, much troubled, still halted between two opinions—while the romantic and simple soul of loving little Carmelita remained steadfast, and troubled but little. Just a little, because the fine gentilhomme, Légionnaire Jean Boule, and the great, kind Légionnaire Bouckaing Bronceau, and certain others, seemed somehow to warn her against her Luigi; seemed to despise him, and hint at treachery. She did not count the sly Belgian (or Austrian) Edouard Malvin. The big stupid Americano was jealous, of course, but Il Signor Inglese was not and he was—oh, like a Reverend Father—so gentle and honest and good. But no, her Luigi could not be false, and the next Légionnaire who said a word against him should be forbidden Le Café de la Légion, ill as it could
