went and had a look, and said, 'It's still raining'--we could hear
it, by the way. A big chap who had a mustache like a Bulgarian
fought against sleeping like a wild man. Sometimes one or two among
the crowd slept, but there was always one to yawn and keep an eye
open for politeness, who stretched himself or half got up so that he
could settle more comfortably.

"Mariette and me, we never slept. We looked at each other, but we
looked at the others as well, and they looked at us, and there you
are.

"Morning came and cleaned the window. I got up to go and look
outside. The rain was hardly less. In the room I could see dark
forms that began to stir and breathe hard. Mariette's eyes were red
with looking at me all night. Between her and me a soldier was
filling his pipe and shivering.

"Some one beats a tattoo on the window, and I half open it. A
silhouette with a streaming hat appears, as though carried and
driven there by the terrible force of the blast that came with it,
and asks--

"'Hey, in the cafe there! Is there any coffee to be had?'

"'Coming, sir, coming,' cried Mariette.

"She gets up from her chair, a little benumbed. Without a word she
looks at her self in our bit of a mirror, touches her hair lightly,
and says quite simply, the good lass--