with one another or stalking back and forth with imprecatory gesticulations. “It’s a joke, too, you know, there are no more trains?”—“The conductor is dead. I know his sister.”—“Old chap, I am all in.”—“Say, we are all lost.”—“What time is it?”—“My dear fellow, there is no more time, the French Government forbids it.” Suddenly burst out of the loquacious opacity a dozen handfuls of Algériens, their feet swaggering with fatigue, their eyes burning, apparently by themselves—faceless in the equally black mist. By threes and fives they assaulted the goblin who wailed and shook his withered fist in their faces. There was no train. It had been taken away by the French Government. “How do I know how the poilus can get back to their regiments on time? Of course you’ll all of you be deserters, but is it my fault?” (I thought of my friend, the Belgian, at this moment lying in a pen at the prison which I had just quitted by some miracle.) … One of these fine people from uncivilized, ignorant, unwarlike Algeria was drunk and knew it, as did two of his very fine friends who announced that as there was no train he should have a good sleep at a farmhouse hard by, which farmhouse one of them claimed to espy through the impenetrable night. The drunk was accordingly escorted into the dark, his friends’ abrupt steps correcting his own large slovenly procedure out of earshot…. Some of the Black People sat down near me and smoked. Their enormous faces, wads of vital darkness, swooned with fatigue. Their vast gentle hands lay noisily about their knees. 

 The departed gendarme returned, with a bump, out of the mist. The train for Paris would arrive de suite. We were just in time, our movement had so far been very creditable. All was well. It was cold, eh? 

 Then with the ghastly miniature roar of an insane toy the train for Paris came fumbling into the station…. 

 We boarded it, due caution being taken that I should not escape. As a matter of fact I held up the would-be passengers for nearly a minute by my unaided attempts to boost my uncouth baggage aboard. Then my captors and I blundered heavily into a compartment in which an Englishman and two French women were seated. My gendarmes established themselves on either side of the door, a process which woke up the Anglo-Saxon and caused a brief gap in the low talk of the women. Jolt—we were off. 

 I find myself with a française on my left and an anglais on my right. The latter has already uncomprehendingly subsided into sleep. The former (a woman of about thirty) is talking pleasantly to her friend, whom I face. She must have been very 

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