him. Through the open window of the room, seen over the dark silhouette
of the roofs of Nancy, shone the glowing red sky and rolling smoke of
the vast munition works at Pompey and Frouard.

"You were not here when I came to the hotel two years ago," said I.

"No," he answered; "I have been here only since November, 1914."

"You are a Frenchman? There was a Swiss here, then."

"Yes, indeed, I am Français, monsieur. The Swiss is now a waiter in a
café of the Place Stanislas. It is something new to me to be a hotel
porter."

"Tiens. What did you do?"

"I drove a coal team, monsieur."

"How, then, did you happen to come here?"

"I used to deliver coal to the hotel. One day I heard that the Swiss had
gone to the café to take the place of a garçon whose class had just been
called out. I was getting sick of carrying the heavy sacks of coal, and
being always out of doors, so I applied for the porter's job."

"You are satisfied with the change."

"Oh, yes, indeed, monsieur."

"I suppose you have kinsmen at the front."