only a stop on the way.

The other circumstance was the presence of a soldier in the vestibule
who said: "Votre laisser-passer, monsieur, s'il vous platt!" If you had a
laisser-passer, he was most polite; but if you lacked one, he would
also have been most polite and so would the guard that took you in
charge at the next station. In other words, monsieur, you must have
something besides a railroad ticket if you are on a train that runs past
the fortress of Toul and your destination is Nancy. You must have a
military pass, which was never given to foreigners if they were
travelling alone in the zone of military operations. The pulse of the
Frenchman beats high, his imagination bounds, when he looks
eastward. To the east are the lost provinces and the frontier drawn by
the war of '70 between French Lorraine and German Lorraine. This
gave our journey interest.

Nancy, capital of French Lorraine, is so near Metz, the great German
fortress town of German Lorraine, that excursion trains used to run to
Nancy in the opera season. "They are not running this winter," say
the wits of Nancy. "For one reason, we have no opera--and there are
other reasons."

An aeroplane from the German lines has only to toss a bomb in the
course of an average reconnaissance on Nancy if it chooses; for
Zeppelins are within easy reach of Nancy. But here was Nancy as
brilliantly lighted at nine in the evening as any city of its size at home.
Our train, too, had run with the windows unshaded. After the
darkness of London, and after English trains with every window-
shade closely drawn, this was a surprise.