The Spectator., 1915-03-02

l anu hios W OA A>SW AOAh WI M -~>~~~~~~~~~~~o~~~ drink before them And then-would wonders never cease?-these Ger mans had actually paid-even over- paid, ma foi-for one of them flung a golden half ,ouis on the counter and stalked from the place. refusing change.
 Of course at the Hotel de Vile the invaders behaved differently. There the mayor was called upon for one million francs-war indemnity But that was a matter for the city's con- cern and not the individual. Madame still had that golden half louis and would show it If we cared to see. Gold was scarce and exceedingly precious. The sight of it was good.
 Unanmity of the War.
 Now the Germans were gone forced out grace Dieu, so the good citizens no longer lived in the cellars. They were again in their places at the Lion dor, slipping vermouth and offer ing gratitude to the military regime that had the decency to allow cafes open until eight o'clock. Outside the night was cold and a fine drizzle beat against the windows Several new corners shivered and remarked that 1t must be terrible in the trenches. But the electric lights, the clinking glasses on the marble tables. the rattling coins soon brought them into the gen. eral line of speculation on how long 1t would take to drive the Germans from France.
 For hundred years the cafes have been the forum of France. The Lion dor had for that entire period been the scene of fierce verbal encounters between members of more political and religious faiths than exist In any other nation of the world Every Frenchman no matter how humble in position or purse has decided opinions about something But now the voices in the Lion dor arose only in appellations concerning les Boches. There was unanimity of opinion on the absorbing subject of the war.
 The members of the American am bulance column sat at table near the door. Our khaki always brought looks of friendly interest. Almost everyone thought us to be English, and those who learned the truth were always distinctly pleased. We finished the aperitif and consulted about din. ner. We were of duty-we might either return for the army mess or buy our own meal at the restaurant. We paid the garcon and decided upon the restaurant-a few doors away. Several of the men were struggling into their rubber coats. told them that I would follow shortly. had just caught a sentence that thrilled me. It held note of mystery-or tragedy. It brought life out of the commonplace normality of the aperitif hour at the Lion dor.
 Where the Tragedy Comes.
 The speakers were two Frenchmen of middle age-fat and bearded. They were dressed in ordinary black. but wore it with ceremonial rather than conventional manner. The atmosphere of the city did not seem upon them. They might rather be the butcher and the grocer of a small town. One of the pair had sat alone for some time before the second arrived. l had no ticed him. He seemed to have no acquaintances in the place-which was unusual. He drank two cognacs in rapid uccession-which was still more unusual One drink always sat isfies a Frenchman at the aperitif hour-and 1t is very seldom cognac.
 When the second man entered the other started from his seat and held out both hands eagerly. 80 you got out safe?" were the words heard, but our crowd was hurrying toward the door, and I lost the actual greeting. ordered another vermouth and waited.
 The two men were seated opposite each other. The first man nervously motioned to the waiter and the new conner gave his order. It was plain that they were both excited. but the table adjoining was unoccupied. so they caused no attention. The noisy waiter. skipping bottles on the table, drowned out the next few sentences. Then l heard the second man: "So l got out first. but you managed to get here yesterday--a day in advance" The other replied: 'I was lucky , enough to get horse. They were shelling the market place when left" , The second man gulped his drink and , plucked nervously at the others , I-sleeva My wife is at the hotel" he