rejoicing because peace has been declared."

"Oh, you have a neighbour who has served then! I am glad; for I, too,
have seen a little soldiering here and there."

He did not look glad, but he drew his brows down over his keen eyes.

"You are French, are you not?" I asked, as we all walked up the hill
together, he with his black bag in his hand and his long blue cloak
slung over his shoulder.

"Well, I am of Alsace," said he; "and, you know, they are more
German than French. For myself, I have been in so many lands that I
feel at home in all. I have been a great traveller; and where do you
think that I might find a lodging?"

I can scarcely tell now, on looking back with the great gap of
five-and-thirty years between, what impression this singular man had
made upon me. I distrusted him, I think, and yet I was fascinated by
him also; for there was something in his bearing, in his look, and his
whole fashion of speech which was entirely unlike anything that I had
ever seen. Jim Horscroft was a fine man, and Major Elliott was a brave
one, but they both lacked something that this wanderer had. It was the
quick alert look, the flash of the eye, the nameless distinction which
is so hard to fix. And then we had saved him when he lay gasping upon
the shingle, and one's heart always softens towards what one has once
helped.

"If you will come with me," said I, "I have little doubt that I can find
you a bed for a night or two, and by that time you will be better able