n of resigned peace. Then she told me about Suzanne.

Long before, ages and ages ago it seemed, but really only four years, a
huge, ungainly bird fell crashing to earth and from the wreck a man was
taken, unconscious. He was carried to "Suzanne's," and she nursed him
and cared for him until he was well again. "Suzanne was very happy
then," madame told me. And no wonder, for the daring aviator and Suzanne
were in love. She nursed him back to health, but when he went away he
left his heart forever with her.

They were engaged, and every little while he would fly over from his
station to see Suzanne. Those were in the early days and aviation--well,
even at that, it hasn't changed so much.

One day a letter came for Suzanne, and with a catch at her throbbing
heart she read that her _fiance_ had been killed. [v]"_Mort pour la
patrie_," it said, and Suzanne was never the same afterward.

For many months the poor girl grieved, but, finally, she began to
realize that what had happened to her had happened to thousands of other
girls, too, and, gradually, she took up the attitude that you find
throughout this glorious country. Only her eyes now tell the sad story.

One evening two men walked into the cafe and from their talk Suzanne
knew they were from _l'ecole_. She sat down and listened to them. They
talked about the war, about aviation, about deeds of heroism, and
Suzanne drank in every word, for they were talking the language of her
dead lover. The two aviators stayed to dinner, but the big room was not
good enough. They must come back to the family dinner--to the intimacy
of the back room.

They stayed all night and left early next morning, but before they left
they wrote their names in a big book. To-day, Suzanne has the book,
filled full of names, many now famous, many names that are only a
memory--that is how it started.

When the two pilots went back to _l'ecole_, they spoke in glowing terms
of "Suzanne's," of the soft beds, of the delicious dinner, and, I think,
mostly of Suzanne.

Visitors came after that to eat at "Suzanne's," and to see her famous
book. They came regularly and, finally, "Suzanne's" became an
institution.

Always, a _pilote_ was taken into the back room; he ate with the family,
he told them all the news from _l'ecole_, and, in exchange, he heard
stories about the early days, stories that will never be printed, but
which embody examples of the heroism and intelligence that have done
their pa