France.

John showed his passport twice more, but all that day he beheld marching
troops. In the afternoon it snowed a little again and the slush was
everywhere, but he trudged bravely through it. Having escaped from the
trenches he felt that he could endure anything. What were snow, a gray
sky and a cold wind to one who had lived for months on a floor of earth
and between narrow walls of half-frozen mud? He was like a prisoner who
had escaped from a steel cage.

Toward dark he turned from the road and sought refuge at a low but
rather large farmhouse, standing among trees. He modestly made his way
to the rear, and asked shelter for the night in the stable, saying that
he would pay. He learned that the place was occupied by people bearing
the German name of Gratz, which however signified little on that
borderland, which at different times had been under both German and
French rule.

Nor did the proprietor of the house himself, who came out to see him,
enlighten him concerning his sympathies. If he liked France obviously it
was no time for him to say so when he was surrounded by the German
legions. But John could sleep on the hay in the stable, and have supper
and breakfast for certain number of marks or francs which he must show
in advance. He showed them and all was well.

John, after carefully scraping all the mud and snow from his boots was
allowed to go in the big kitchen and sit on a stone bench beside the
wall, while two stout women cooked at a great furnace, and trim maids
came for the food which they took upstairs.