to us so under the weather; nor in all France two better instances of
the way men can regain health of body and spirit in the right surroundings.

We had a tremendous fall of snow that winter, and had to dig ourselves
out of it. Poirot and Bidan were of those who dug. It was amusing to
watch them. Bidan dug easily, without afterthought. "_Le grand-pere_"
dug, with half an eye at least on his future; in spite of those stiff
fingers he shifted a lot of snow, but he rested on his shovel whenever
he thought you could see him--for he was full of human nature.

To see him and Bidan set off for town together! Bidan pale, and wambling
a little still, but gay, with a kind of birdlike detachment; "_le
grand-pere_" stocky, wooden, planting his huge feet rather wide apart
and regarding his companion, the frosted trees, and the whole wide
world, with his humorous stare.

Once, I regret to say, when spring was beginning to come, Bidan-Prosper
returned on "_le grand-pere's_" arm with the utmost difficulty, owing to
the presence within him of a liquid called Clairette de Die, no amount
of which could subdue "_le grand-pere's_" power of planting one foot
before the other. Bidan-Prosper arrived hilarious, revealing to the
world unsuspected passions; he awoke next morning sad, pale, penitent.
Poirot, _au contraire_, was morose the whole evening, and awoke next
morning exactly the same as usual. In such different ways does the gift
of the gods affect us.

They had their habits, so diverse, their constitutions, and their
dreams--alas! not yet realised. I know not where they may be now;
Bidan-Prosper cannot yet be cooking at the Ritz in London town; but
"_grand-pere_" Poirot may perchance be distributing again his vegetables
in the streets of Nancy, driving his two good little horses--_des
gaillards_--with the reins hooked round "_l'empereur_." Good
friends--good luck!

XIII

THE MUFFLED SHIP

It was cold and grey, but the band on shore was playing, and the flags
on shore were fluttering, and the long double-tiered wharf crowded with
welcomers in each of its open gaps, when our great ship slowly drew
alongside, packed with cheering, chattering crowds of khaki figures,
letting go all the pent-up excitement of getting home from the war. The
air was full of songs and laughter, of cheers, and shouted questions,
the hooting of the launches' sirens, the fluttering flags and hands and
handkerchiefs; and there were faces of old women