--- title: "Down and Out in Paris and London" author: "George Orwell" languages: [en] shelf: "Literature" section: 18 of 38 url: https://scriptura.si/works/orwell-down-and-out-fp20180314/18/ cite: "George Orwell, Down and Out in Paris and London, section 18. Scriptura (scriptura.si), https://scriptura.si/works/orwell-down-and-out-fp20180314/18/" --- # Down and Out in Paris and London *George Orwell* > * A Distributed Proofreaders Canada eBook * > This eBook is made available at no cost and with very few restrictions. These restrictions apply only if (1) you make a change in the eBook (other than alteration for different display devices), or (2) you are making commercial use of the eBook. If either of these conditions applies, please contact an FP administrator before proceeding. > This work is in the Canadian public domain, but may be under copyright in some countries. If you live outside Canada, check your country's copyright laws. IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY, DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE. > Title: Down and Out in Paris and London Date of first publication: 1933 Author: George Orwell (1903-1950) Date first posted: Mar. 14, 2018 Date last updated: Mar. 14, 2018 Faded Page eBook #20180314 > This eBook was produced by: Delphine Lettau, Howard Ross & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net > GEORGE ORWELL > _Down and Out_ _in Paris and London_ > O scathful harm, condicion of poverte! CHAUCER > PENGUIN BOOKS > First published by Victor Gollancz 1933 > Copyright 1933 by Eric Blair > [The end of _Down and Out in Paris and London_ by George Orwell] ## 18. Chapter XVIII Source: https://scriptura.si/works/orwell-down-and-out-fp20180314/18/ · cite a paragraph as https://scriptura.si/works/orwell-down-and-out-fp20180314/18/#p-N [¶0] Charlie told us a good story one Saturday night in the _bistro_. Try and picture him—drunk, but sober enough to talk consecutively. He bangs on the zinc bar and yells for silence: [¶1] 'Silence, _messieurs et dames_—silence, I implore you! Listen to this story that I am about to tell you. A memorable story, an instructive story, one of the souvenirs of a refined and civilized life. Silence, _messieurs et dames_! [¶2] 'It happened at a time when I was hard up. You know what that is like—how damnable, that a man of refinement should ever be in such a condition. My money had not come from home; I had pawned everything, and there was nothing open to me except to work, which is a thing I will not do. I was living with a girl at the time—Yvonne her name was—a great half-witted peasant girl like Azaya there, with yellow hair and fat legs. The two of us had eaten nothing in three days. _Mon Dieu_, what sufferings! The girl used to walk up and down the room with her hands on her belly, howling like a dog that she was dying of starvation. It was terrible. [¶3] 'But to a man of intelligence nothing is impossible. I propounded to myself the question, "What is the easiest way to get money without working?" And immediately the answer came: "To get money easily one must be a woman. Has not every woman something to sell?" And then, as I lay reflecting upon the things I should do if I were a woman, an idea came into my head. I remembered the Government maternity hospitals—you know the Government maternity hospitals? They are places where women who are _enceinte_ are given meals free and no questions are asked. It is done to encourage childbearing. Any woman can go there and demand a meal, and she is given it immediately. [¶4] '"_Mon Dieu!_" I thought, "if only I were a woman! I would eat at one of those places every day. Who can tell whether a woman is _enceinte_ or not, without an examination?" [¶5] 'I turned to Yvonne. "Stop that insufferable bawling," I said; "I have thought of a way to get food." [¶6] '"How?" said she. [¶7] '"It is simple," I said. "Go to the Government maternity hospital. Tell them you are _enceinte_ and ask for food. They will give you a good meal and ask no questions." [¶8] 'Yvonne was appalled. "_Mais, mon Dieu_," she cried, "I am not _enceinte_!" [¶9] '"Who cares?" I said. "That is easily remedied. What do you need except a cushion—two cushions if necessary? It is an inspiration from heaven, _ma chère_. Don't waste it." [¶10] 'Well, in the end I persuaded her, and then we borrowed a cushion and I got her ready and took her to the maternity hospital. They received her with open arms. They gave her cabbage soup, a ragoût of beef, a purée of potatoes, bread and cheese and beer, and all kinds of advice about her baby. Yvonne gorged till she almost burst her skin, and managed to slip some of the bread and cheese into her pocket for me. I took her there every day until I had money again. My intelligence had saved us. [¶11] 'Everything went well until a year later. I was with Yvonne again, and one day we were walking down the Boulevard Port Royal, near the barracks. Suddenly Yvonne's mouth fell open, and she began turning red and white, and red again. [¶12] '"_Mon Dieu!_" she cried, "look at that who is coming! It is the nurse who was in charge at the maternity hospital, I am ruined!" [¶13] '"Quick!" I said, "run!" But it was too late. The nurse had recognized Yvonne, and she came straight up to us, smiling. She was a big fat woman with a gold pince-nez and red cheeks like the cheeks of an apple. A motherly, interfering kind of woman. [¶14] '"I hope you are well, _ma petite_?" she said kindly. "And your baby, is he well too? Was it a boy, as you were hoping?" [¶15] 'Yvonne had begun trembling so hard that I had to grip her arm. "No," she said at last. [¶16] '"Ah, then, _évidemment_, it was a girl?" [¶17] 'Thereupon Yvonne, the idiot, lost her head completely. "No," she actually said again! [¶18] 'The nurse was taken aback. "_Comment!_" she exclaimed, "neither a boy nor a girl! But how can that be?" [¶19] 'Figure to yourselves, _messieurs et dames_, it was a dangerous moment. Yvonne had turned the colour of a beetroot and looked ready to burst into tears; another second and she would have confessed everything. Heaven knows what might have happened. But as for me, I had kept my head; I stepped in and saved the situation. [¶20] '"It was twins," I said calmly. [¶21] '"Twins!" exclaimed the nurse. And she was so pleased that she took Yvonne by the shoulders and embraced her on both cheeks, publicly. [¶22] 'Yes, twins . . .'