d'Arc, showing her in the beauty of her winsome youth. The pale, girlish
face dominated the shadowy room with its dreamy, innocent loveliness.

There came a knock at the door, and so still was the town and the house
that the knock had the effect of something dramatic and portentous. A
big man, with bulging, pink cheeks, a large, chestnut mustache, and
brown eyes full of philosophic curiosity, stood in the doorway. The
uniform that he was wearing was unusually neat and clean.

"So you are the American I am to have as neighbor," said he.

"Yes," I replied.

"I am the caporal in charge of the dépôt of the engineers in the
cellar," continued my visitor, "and I thought I'd come in and see how
you were."

I invited him to enter.

"Do you find yourself comfortable here, son?"

"Yes. I consider myself privileged to have the use of the room. Have a
cigarette?"

"Are these American cigarettes?"

"Yes."

"Your American tobacco is fine, son. But in America everybody is a
millionaire and has the best of everything--isn't that so? I should like