yards, turned into a gateway and led us up the stone steps of a
sumptuous dwelling. Opening the door, he lit the electric light and
stepped into the vestibule.

"Come in," he said. "I'll be back in a moment." And he disappeared.

There we stood, Leon, George and myself, waiting for something to
happen, for someone to appear. Five--ten--fifteen minutes must have
elapsed--still not a sound anywhere. I was just beginning to wonder if
we had not been the dupes of some practical joke, when from a room
opening into the vestibule a light shone forth. The curtains parted and
our friend of the highroad appeared.

"Isn't much--but such as it is you're welcome. Sit down and make
yourselves comfortable." And again he disappeared.

On a snowy white table cloth three covers were laid and a tempting
supper composed of bread and butter, cheese, a bottle of white wine, and
a huge basket of most luscious hothouse grapes and pears--gladdened our
hungry gaze. We did not need a second invitation! We fell to with a
vengeance and at the end of a quarter-hour hardly a crumb remained.

"When you've finished, come upstairs; Madame will take the first door to
the right. You boys come up a flight higher," called a voice from
above.

We obeyed, and before retiring I waited a good half-hour hoping our
friend would reappear. But no one came--so bolting my door, I offered
up a prayer of thanks and was soon fast asleep.

Sunday morning, September sixth, the sun was high in the heavens when I
peeped from beneath my lace-bordered sheets and cocked my ear at the
familiar sound of the cannon. It was a long continuous roar, and now
that I had become accustomed to distancing I estimated that the battle
was on at Mormont. And I was not mistaken. A little later official
news confirmed my guess.

Finding no bell in my room, I opened the door to see a pitcher of hot
water sitting before it, and on a chair beside it, a new comb, a clean
linen duster, and a pocket handkerchief. A brief note told me that I
would find breakfast in the dining-room, and requested that I leave word
on the table saying at what time I would be in for luncheon. Decidedly
the mystery deepened--for not a sound could be heard save in the garden
where I spied George and Leon, who informed me that the house was empty,
and "a gorgeous house, Madame!" they ejaculated in admiration.

Though partially abandoned, Melun was full of life, thanks to the
presence of numerous