Although his life did not match up to his dreams, Mangin had, through the years, learned to cloak himself with an air of cool sobriety. This posturing made him look haughty and got him in trouble with his superiors. Mangin hated his boss Jollien – that clown seemed to have all the luck in the world in spite of his gruesome lack of competence. Many were the times that Mangin had wanted to leave the ‘organization’, but living the life of a mere bureaucrat was even more dire.
Cambronne chuckled. “Bergère, ô Tour Eiffel, le troupeau de ponts bêle ce matin…6” It had started raining and Mangin’s cape was lying wet and heavy on his shoulders.
“Your, um, rush of poetry is most probably a result of Monsieur Dumas knocking you on the head,” he said.
“No, I’ve read all that nonsense in Le Petit Pa
