.

"She is a fine girl."

"Yes," tentatively.

"She is the handsomest peasant I ever saw or knew."

"You know her?" There was a spark in the vintner's eyes.

"Only for a few days. She interests me." Carmichael produced a pipe and
lighted it.

"Ah, yes, the pretty peasant girl always interests you gentlemen." There
was a note of bitterness. "Did you come here to seek her?"

"This is the first time I ever saw her here. And let me add," evenly,
"that my interest in her is not of the order you would infer. She is
good and patient and brave, and my interest in her is impersonal. It is
not necessary for me to make any explanations, but I do so."

"Pardon me!" The vintner was plainly abashed.

"Granted. But you, you seem to possess a peculiar interest."

The vintner flushed. "I have that right," with an air which rather
mystified Carmichael.

"That explains everything. I do not recollect seeing you before in the
Black Eagle."

"I am from the north; a vintner, and there is plenty of work here in
the valleys late in September."

"The grape," mused Carmichael. "You will never learn how to press it as
they do in France. It is wine there; it is vinegar this side of the
Rhine."

"France," said the vintner moodily. "Do you think there will be any
France in the future?"

Carmichael laughed. "France is an incurable cosmic malady; it will
always be. It may be beaten, devastated, throttled, but it will not
die."

"You are fond of France?"

"Very."

"Do you think it wise to say so here?"

"I am the American consul; nobody minds my opinions."

"The American consul," repeated the vintner.

Gretchen could now be seen, wending her return in and out among the
clustering tables. She set the tankards down, and Carmichael put out a
silver crown.

"And do not bother about the change."

"Are all Americans rich?" she asked soberly. "Do you never keep the
change yourselves?"

[Illustration: "Are all Americans rich?" she asked, soberly.]

"Not when we are in our Sunday clothes."

"Then it is vanity." Gretchen shook her head wisely.

"Mine is worth only four coppers to-night," he said.

The vintner laughed pleasantly. Gretchen looked into his eyes, and an
echo found haven in her own.

Carmichael thirstily drank his first tankard, thinking: "So this vintner
is in love with our goose-girl? Confound my memory! It never failed me
like this before. I would give twenty crowns to know where I have seen
him. It's on