over the girl, against which she struggles only at her
strongest. To-day she looked pale and weak, and he could do what he
liked with her.

He liked to make her take tea at the Prefet's, doubtless because he'd
have felt bound to escort the invalid to her room, had she insisted on
going there!

The story of the Wandering Jew would be a strange one, anywhere and
anyhow. But it's more than strange to me, because it is linked with my
past life. Still, I won't tell it from my point of view. I'll begin with
the Prefet's version.

The "Wandering Jew" really _is_ a Jew, of the best and most intellectual
type. His name is Paul Herter. His father was a man of Metz, who had
brought to German Lorraine a wife from Luneville. Paul is thirty-five
now, so you see he wasn't born when the Metz part of Lorraine became
German. His parents--French at heart--taught him secretly to love
France, and hate German domination. As he grew up, Paul's ambition was
to be a great surgeon. He wished to study, not in Germany, but in Paris
and London. These hopes, however, were of the "stuff that dreams are
made of," for when the father died, the boy had to work at anything he
could get for a bare livelihood. It wasn't till he was over twenty-five
that he'd scraped together money for the first step toward his career.
He went to Paris: studied and starved; then to London. It was there I
met him, but that bit of the story fits in later. He was thought well
of at "Bart's," and everybody who knew him was surprised when suddenly
he married one of the younger nurses, an English girl, and vanished with
her from London. Presently the pair appeared in Metz, at the mother's
house. Herter seemed sad and discouraged, uncertain of his future, and
just at this time, through German Lorraine ran rumours of war "to begin
when the harvests should be over." Paul and his mother took counsel.
Both were French at heart. They determined to leave all they had in the
world at Metz, rather than Paul should be called up to serve Prussia.
The three contrived to cross the frontier. Paul offered himself to the
Foreign Legion; his wife volunteered to nurse in a military hospital at
Nancy; and Madame Herter, mere took refuge in her girlhood's home at
Luneville, where her old father still lived.

Then came the rush of the Huns across the frontier. Paul's wife was
killed by a Zeppelin bomb which wrecked her hospital. At Luneville the
mother and grandfather perished in their own house,