Farewell to Arms
by Ernest Hemingway
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 behind us to the old customhouse. 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 help up the quarter bottle 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 favourably impressed. “How much has your cousin?”
Catherine had a little over twelve hundred lire. The lieutenant was pleased. His attitude towards 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 a 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 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 that 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 stick to it without explanations. But we had passports and we would spend the money. So they gave us provisional visas. At any time these visas 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.” [...]
“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 writer sport.”
“If you really want winter sport,” the second official said, “you will go to the Engadine or to Miirren. I must protest against your being advised to go to Montreux for the winter sport.” [...]
“Gentlemen,” I said “I am afraid we must go. My cousin is very tired. We will go tentatively to Montreux.” [...]
“There will be no unpleasantness with the police,” the first official assured me. “You will find all the in habitants extremely courteous and friendly.”
“Thank you both very much.” I said. “We appreciate your advice very much.”