A farewell to arms

by Ernest Miller Hemingway

  “Isn’t it grand?”

  “Let’s go and have breakfast!”

  “Isn’t it a grand country? I love the way it feels under my shoes.”

  “I’m so stiff I can’t feel it very well. But it feels like a splendid country. Darling, do you realize we’re here and out of that bloody place?”

  “I do. I really do. I’ve never realized anything before.”

  “Look at the houses. Isn’t this a fine square? There’s a place we can get breakfast.”

  “Isn’t the rain fine? They never had rain like this in Italy. It’s cheerful rain.”

  “And we’re here, darling! Do you realize we’re here?”

  We went inside the café and sat down at a clean wooden table. We were cockeyed excited. A splendid clean-looking woman with an apron came and asked us what we wanted.

  “Rolls and jam and coffee,” Catherine said.

  “I’m sorry, we haven’t any rolls in war-time.”

  “Bread then.”

  “I can make you some toast.”

  “All right.”

  “I want some eggs fried too.”

  “How many eggs for the gentleman?”

  “Three.”

  “Take four, darling.”

  “Four eggs.”

  The woman went away. I kissed Catherine and held her hand very tight. We looked at each other and at the café.

  “Darling, darling, isn’t it lovely?”

  “It’s grand,” I said.

  “I don’t mind there not being rolls,” Catherine said. “I thought about them all night. But I don’t mind it. I don’t mind it at all.”

  “I suppose pretty soon they will arrest us.”

  “Never mind, darling. We’ll have breakfast first. You won’t mind being arrested after breakfast. And then there’s nothing they can do to us. We’re British and American citizens in good standing.”

  “You have a passport, haven’t you?”

  “Of course. Oh let’s not talk about it. Let’s be happy.”

  “I couldn’t be any happiei” I said. A fat gray cat with a tail that lifted like a plume crossed the floor to our table and curved against my leg to purr each time she rubbed. I reached down and stroked her. Catherine smiled at me very happily. “Here comes the coffee,” she said.

  They arrested us after breakfast. We took a little walk through the village then went down to the quay to get our bags. A soldier was standing guard over the boat.

  “Is this your boat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  “Up the lake.”

  “Then I have to ask you to come with me.”

  “How about the bags?”

  “You can carry the bags.”

  I carried the bags and Catherine walked beside me and the soldier walked along behind us to the old custom house. In the custom house a lieutenant, very thin and military, questioned us.

  “What nationality are you?”

  “American and British.”

  “Let me see your passports.”

  I gave him mine and Catherine got hers out of her handbag.

  He examined them for a long time.

  “Why do you enter Switzerland this way in a boat?”

  “I am a sportsman,” I said. “Rowing is my great sport. I always row when I get a chance.”

  “Why do you come here?”

  “For the winter sport. We are tourists and we want to do the winter sport.”

  “This is no place for winter sport.”

  “We know it. We want to go where they have the winter sport.”

  “What have you been doing in Italy?”

  “I have been studying architecture. My cousin has been studying art.”

  “Why do you leave there?”

  “We want to do the winter sport. With the war going on you cannot study architecture.”

  “You will please stay where you are,” the lieutenant said. He went back into the building with our passports.

  “You’re splendid, darling,” Catherine said. “Keep on the same track. You want to do the winter sport.”

  “Do you know anything about art?”

  “Rubens,” said Catherine.

  “Large and fat,” I said.

  “Titian,” Catherine said.

  “Titian-haired,” I said. “How about Mantegna?”

  “Don’t ask hard ones,” Catherine said. “I know him though— very bitter.”

  “Very bitter,” I said. “Lots of nail holes.”

  “You see I’ll make you a fine wife,” Catherine said. “I’ll be able to talk art with your customers.”

  “Here he comes,” I said. The thin lieutenant came down the length of the custom house, holding our passports.

  “I will have to send you into Locarno,” he said. “You can get a carriage and a soldier will go in with you.”

  “All right,” I said. “What about the boat?”

  “The boat is confiscated. What have you in those bags?”

  He went all through the two bags and held up the quarterbottle of brandy. “Would you join me in a drink?” I asked.

  “No thank you.” He straightened up. “How much money have you?”

  “Twenty-five hundred lire.”

  He was favorably impressed. “How much has your cousin?”

  Catherine had a little over twelve hundred lire. The lieutenant was pleased. His attitude toward us became less haughty.

  “If you are going for winter sports,” he said, “Wengen is the place. My father has a very fine hotel at Wengen. It is open all the time.”

  “That’s splendid,” I said. “Could you give me the name?”

  “I will write it on a card.” He handed me the card very politely.

  “The soldier will take you into Locarno. He will keep your passports. I regret this but it is necessary. I have good hopes they will give you a visa or a police permit at Locarno.”

  He handed the two passports to the soldier and carrying the bags we started into the village to order a carriage. “Hi,” the lieutenant called to the soldier. He said something in a German dialect to him. The soldier slung his rifle on his back and picked up the bags.

  “It’s a great country,” I said to Catherine.

  “It’s so practical.”

  “Thank you very much,” I said to the lieutenant. He waved his hand.

  “Service!” he said. We followed our guard into the village.

  We drove to Locarno in a carriage with the soldier sitting on the front seat with the driver. At Locarno we did not have a bad time. They questioned us but they were polite because we had passports and money. I do not think they believed a word of the story and I thought it was silly but it was like a law-court. You did not want something reasonable, you wanted something technical and then stuck to it without explanations. But we had passports and we would spend the money. So they gave us provisional visas.

  At any time this visa might be withdrawn. We were to report to the police wherever we went.

  Could we go wherever we wanted? Yes. Where did we want to go?

  “Where do you want to go, Cat?”

  “Montreux.”

  “It is a very nice place,” the official said. “I think you will like that place.”

  “Here at Locarno is a very nice place,” another official said. “I am sure you would like it here very much at Locarno. Locarno is a very attractive place.”

  “We would like some place where there is winter sport.”

  “There is no winter sport at Montreux.”

  “I beg your pardon,” the other official said. “I come from Montreux. There is very certainly winter sport on the Montreux Oberland Bernois railway. It would be false for you to deny that.”

  “I do not deny it. I simply said there is no winter sport at Montreux.”

  “I question that,” the other official said. “I question that statement.”

  “I hold to that statement.”

  “I quest
ion that statement. I myself have luge-ed into the streets of Montreux. I have done it not once but several times. Luge-ing is certainly winter sport.”

  The other official turned to me.

  “Is luge-ing your idea of winter sport, sir? I tell you you would be very comfortable here in Locarno. You would find the climate healthy, you would find the environs attractive. You would like it very much.”

  “The gentleman has expressed a wish to go to Montreux.”

  “What is luge-ing?” I asked.

  “You see he has never even heard of luge-ing!”

  That meant a great deal to the second official. He was pleased by that.

  “Luge-ing,” said the first official, “is tobogganing.”

  “I beg to differ,” the other official shook his head. “I must differ again. The toboggan is very different from the luge. The toboggan is constructed in Canada of flat laths. The luge is a common sled with runners. Accuracy means something.”

  “Couldn’t we toboggan?” I asked.

  “Of course you could toboggan,” the first official said. “You could toboggan very well. Excellent Canadian toboggans are sold in Montreux. Ochs Brothers sell toboggans. They import their own toboggans.”

  The second official turned away. “Tobogganing,” he said, “requires a special piste. You could not toboggan into the streets of Montreux. Where are you stopping here?”

  “We don’t know,” I said. “We just drove in from Brissago. The carriage is outside.”

  “You make no mistake in going to Montreux,” the first official said. “You will find the climate delightful and beautiful. You will have no distance to go for winter sport.”

  “If you really want winter sport,” the second official said, “you will go to the Engadine or to Mürren. I must protest against your being advised to go to Montreux for the winter sport.”

  “At Les Avants above Montreux there is excellent winter sport of every sort.” The champion of Montreux glared at his colleague.

  “Gentlemen,” I said, “I am afraid we must go. My cousin is very tired. We will go tentatively to Montreux.”

  “I congratulate you,” the first official shook my hand.

  “I believe that you will regret leaving Locarno,” the second official said. “At any rate you will report to the police at Montreux.”

  “There will be no unpleasantness with the police,” the first official assured me. “You will find all the inhabitants extremely courteous and friendly.”

  “Thank you both very much,” I said. “We appreciate your advice very much.”

  “Good-by,” Catherine said. “Thank you both very much.”

  They bowed us to the dooi the champion of Locarno a little coldly. We went down the steps and into the carriage.

  “My God, darling,” Catherine said. “Couldn’t we have gotten away any sooner?” I gave the name of a hotel one of the officials had recommended to the driver. He picked up the reins.

  “You’ve forgotten the army,” Catherine said. The soldier was standing by the carriage. I gave him a ten-lira note. “I have no Swiss money yet,” I said. He thanked me, saluted and went off. The carriage started and we drove to the hotel.

  “How did you happen to pick out Montreux?” I asked Catherine. “Do you really want to go there?”

  “It was the first place I could think of,” she said. “It’s not a bad place. We can find some place up in the mountains.”

  “Are you sleepy?”

  “I’m asleep right now.”

  “We’ll get a good sleep. Poor Cat, you had a long bad night.”

  “I had a lovely time,” Catherine said. “Especially when you sailed with the umbrella.”

  “Can you realize we’re in Switzerland?”

  “No, I’m afraid I’ll wake up and it won’t be true.”

  “I am too.”

  “It is true, isn’t it, darling? I’m not just driving down to the stazione in Milan to see you off.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Don’t say that. It frightens me. Maybe that’s where we’re going.”

  “I’m so groggy I don’t know,” I said.

  “Let me see your hands.”

  I put them out. They were both blistered raw.

  “There’s no hole in my side,” I said.

  “Don’t be sacrilegious.”

  I felt very tired and vague in the head. The exhilaration was all gone. The carriage was going along the Street.

  “Poor hands,” Catherine said.

  “Don’t touch them,” I said. “By God I don’t know where we are. Where are we going, driver?” The driver stopped his horse.

  “To the Hotel Metropole. Don’t you want to go there?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s all right, Cat.”

  “It’s all right, darling. Don’t be upset. We’ll get a good sleep and you won’t feel groggy to-morrow.”

  “I get pretty groggy,” I said. “It’s like a comic opera to-day. Maybe I’m hungry.”

  “You’re just tired, darling. You’ll be fine.” The carriage pulled up before the hotel. Some one came out to take our bags.

  “I feel all right,” I said. We were down on the pavement going into the hotel.

  “I know you’ll be all right. You’re just tired. You’ve been up a long time.”

  “Anyhow we’re here.”

  “Yes, we’re really here.”

  We followed the boy with the bags into the hotel.

  BOOK FIVE

  38

  That fall the snow came very late. We lived in a brown wooden house in the pine trees on the side of the mountain and at night there was frost so that there was thin ice over the water in the two pitchers on the dresser in the morning. Mrs. Guttingen came into the room early in the morning to shut the windows and started a fire in the tall porcelain stove. The pine wood crackled and sparked and then the fire roared in the stove and the second time Mrs. Guttingen came into the room she brought big chunks of wood for the fire and a pitcher of hot water. When the room was warm she brought in breakfast. Sitting up in bed eating breakfast we could see the lake and the mountains across the lake on the French side. There was snow on the tops of the mountains and the lake was a gray steel-blue.

  Outside, in front of the chalet a road went up the mountain. The wheel ruts and ridges were iron hard with the frost, and the road climbed steadily through the forest and up and around the mountain to where there were meadows, and barns and cabins in the meadows at the edge of the woods looking across the valley. The valley was deep and there was a stream at the bottom that flowed down into the lake and when the wind blew across the valley you could hear the stream in the rocks.

  Sometimes we went off the road and on a path through the pine forest. The floor of the forest was soft to walk on; the frost did not harden it as it did the road. But we did not mind the hardness of the road because we had nails in the soles and heels of our boots and the heel nails bit on the frozen ruts and with nailed boots it was good walking on the road and invigorating. But it was lovely walking in the woods.

  In front of the house where we lived the mountain went down steeply to the little plain along the lake and we sat on the porch of the house in the sun and saw the winding of the road down the mountain-side and the terraced vineyards on the side of the lower mountain, the vines all dead now for the winter and the fields divided by stone walls, and below the vineyards the houses of the town on the narrow plain along the lake shore. There was an island with two trees on the lake and the trees looked like the double sails of a fishing-boat. The mountains were sharp and steep on the other side of the lake and down at the end of the lake was the plain of the Rhone Valley flat between the two ranges of mountains; and up the valley where the mountains cut it off was the Dent du Midi. It was a high snowy mountain and it dominated the valley but it was so far away that it did not make a shadow.

  When the sun was bright we ate lunch on the porch but the rest of the time we ate upstairs in a small room with plai
n wooden walls and a big stove in the corner. We bought books and magazines in the town and a copy of “Hoyle” and learned many two-handed card games. The small room with the stove was our living-room. There were two comfortable chairs and a table for books and magazines and we played cards on the dining-table when it was cleared away. Mr. and Mrs. Guttingen lived downstairs and we would hear them talking sometimes in the evening and they were very happy together too. He had been a headwaiter and she had worked as maid in the same hotel and they had saved their money to buy this place. They had a son who was studying to be a headwaiter. He was at a hotel in Zurich. Downstairs there was a parlor where they sold wine and beer, and sometimes in the evening we would hear carts stop outside on the road and men come up the steps to go in the parlor to drink wine.

  There was a box of wood in the hall outside the living-room and I kept up the fire from it. But we did not stay up very late. We went to bed in the dark in the big bedroom and when I was undressed I opened the windows and saw the night and the cold stars and the pine trees below the window and then got into bed as fast as I could. It was lovely in bed with the air so cold and clear and the night outside the window. We slept well and if I woke in the night I knew it was from only one cause and I would shift the feather bed over, very softly so that Catherine would not be wakened and then go back to sleep again, warm and with the new lightness of thin covers. The war seemed as far away as the football games of some one else’s college. But I knew from the papers that they were still fighting in the mountains because the snow would not come.

  Sometimes we walked down the mountain into Montreux. There was a path went down the mountain but it was steep and so usually we took the road and walked down on the wide hard road between fields and then below between the stone walls of the vineyards and on down between the houses of the villages along the way. There were three villages; Chernex, Fontanivent, and the other I forget. Then along the road we passed an old square-built stone château on a ledge on the side of the mountain-side with the terraced fields of vines, each vine tied to a stick to hold it up, the vines dry and brown and the earth ready for the snow and the lake down below flat and gray as steel. The road went down a long grade below the château and then turned to the right and went down very steeply and paved with cobbles, into Montreux.