k that the fellow is good enough to be chef even at
the Astoria in Paris. You know the Astoria, my Jules?"

Jules treated the Sergeant to one of those amiable smiles of his. Did
he know the Astoria Hotel? That aristocratic establishment in Paris.
Were there many aristocratic parts of that famous city of which he was
ignorant? It made Henri snigger indeed, remembering those days, now it
seemed so long ago, when he and Jules had been among the elegants of
the city. Yet, if these two young soldiers had known what luxury
meant, and what it was to lead a life of gaiety, they were none the
less good soldiers of France, destined to prove themselves, indeed, as
noble as any of those comrades about them. Seated there on the
fire-bench, where a man could stand and level his rifle in the
direction of the enemy, they and the Sergeant sipped their bowls of
soup with relish, dipping a crust of bread into it, and wanting nothing
better. The outdoor life, their unusual surroundings--which had not
yet become so familiar to them as to go without observation--the keen
February air, the sense of danger impending, lent zest to appetites
already healthy.

"I'd as soon dine like this as anywhere," said Henri, as he tipped his
bowl up and his head back at the same time, and imbibed the steaming
beverage. "Just fancy sitting down to a five- or six-course meal, as a
fellow was accustomed to do in the days before this war commenced. A
five-course meal, Jules! Fancy what we'd have said to such a thing in
Ruhleben, where the meals were hardly recognizable."

Jules at that moment was engaged in finishing a huge crust of bread,
and, holding the remains of it up between fingers and thumb, and
balancing his bowl of soup neatly in the other hand, was in the act of
drinking from it, when a distant thud, a screaming sound, and then a
terrific concussion close at hand sent his bowl flying, and the young
soldier himself rolling from the bank upon which he had been seated.
As for Henri, when Jules caught a view of what was left of that young
fellow it was to discover his friend half buried in earth, a huge log
lying right across his body, and the Sergeant, tumbled, inert and
lifeless it seemed, over the log. Then willing hands came to their
rescue, and within a moment or two all three were again seated on the
bank, the Sergeant holding his head between his hands, still dizzy
after that explosion, while Henri was carelessly brushing the dirt from