THREE CHARMS FROM

basket through the door of the café, scattering the contents. The paramour of the proprietor came from round the bar and picked the woman up and pushed her out of the door. The woman stood in the street, swearing and picking up her wares and demanding payment for them. But the proprietor threatened to telephone for the police and she quickly disappeared. . . . Meanwhile Petit Frère had slipped away to the lavatory to clean himself up.

“Well, that’s a pretty ending to your moon song, fellows,” said St. Dominique. “I am going home now.”

“Oh, don’t break the party up yet,” said Babel. “Let’s finish it up at Quayside. I feel like going up the rags.”

Petit Frère returned, well-washed and looking none the worse for his ordeal. “If I ever run across that old sow again I’ll cut her twat out and give it to the dogs,” he said.

Everybody laughed.

“Here, have a drink on that,” said Babel to Petit Frère, “and let’s sing the moon-song.”

Babel began singing and shaking Big Blonde who had his head down on the table as if he were drunk: “Come on, let’s sing together.” But he discovered that Big Blonde was crying softly.

“He’s drunk!” said Babel.

“Let’s go,” said St. Dominique.

Lafala called the proprietor and paid the bill. Petit Frère shook Big Blonde.

“He’s drunk! Leave him alone till he’s sober,” said Babel. And the four of them went out, leaving Big Blonde and Petit Frère alone.

From Romance in Marseille by Claude McKay, published by Penguin Classics, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2020 by The Literary Estate for the Works of Claude McKay.