Maurice Leblanc

“ There was no time to be lost, as Dourlowski saw:
"Well, look here," he said. "It's a question of a young soldier in the Börsweilen garrison. He's too unhappy for words where he is ... and he's mad at having to serve Germany."
"A ne'er-do-well," growled Morestal. "A slacker who doesn't want to work."
"No, not this one, I tell you, not this one. He means to enlist in the Foreign Legion. He loves France."
"Yes, always the same story. And then—pah!—one never hears of them again. More gallows' seed!"
Dourlowski seemed shocked and scandalized:
"How can you say such a thing, M. Morestal? ... ”

“ So ..."
"My word," said Dourlowski, "I always go by the Col du Diable and the factory."
Morestal reflected for a moment, scribbled a few lines and a few words in an absent-minded sort of way and then, with a movement of quick resolution, took the sheet of note-paper, crumpled it into a ball and flung it into the waste-paper basket:
"No, no, certainly not!" he cried. "I've had enough of this nonsense! One succeeds four times; and, at the fifth attempt.... Besides, it's not a business I care about.... A soldier's a soldier ... whatever uniform he wears...."
"Still ..." mumbled Dourlowski. ”

“ The German commissary gives me a queer look when he meets me; and I won't risk ..."
"You're risking nothing."
"That'll do; and clear out of this as fast as you can.... Oh, wait a second!... I think I ... Listen ..." ”