t was impossible to say where it
ended, seemed to weigh upon the corners of his mouth and form a deep
furrow in either cheek.

In Alsatian-French and stern accents he invited the passengers to
descend: "Vill you get out, chentlemen and laties?"

The two Sisters were the first to obey with the docility of holy women
accustomed to unfaltering submission. The Count and Countess appeared
next, followed by the manufacturer and his wife, and after them Loiseau
pushing his better half in front of him. As he set foot to the ground he
remarked to the officer, more from motives of prudence than politeness,
"Good evening, Monsieur," to which the other with the insolence of the
man in possession, vouchsafed no reply but a stare.

Boule de Suif and Cornudet, though the nearest the door, were the last
to emerge--grave and haughty in face of the enemy. The buxom young woman
struggled hard to command herself and be calm; the democrat tugged at
his long rusty beard with a tragic and slightly trembling hand. They
sought to preserve their dignity, realizing that in such encounters each
one, to a certain extent, represents his country; and the two being
similarly disgusted at the servile readiness of their companions, she
endeavored to show herself prouder than her fellow travelers who were
honest women, while he, feeling that he must set an example, continued
in his attitude his mission of resistance begun by digging pitfalls in
the high roads.

They all entered the huge kitchen of the inn, and the German, having
been presented with the passport signed by the general in command--where
each traveler's name was accompanied by a personal description and a
statement as to his or her profession--he proceeded to scrutinize the
party for a long time, comparing the persons with the written notices.

Finally, he exclaimed unceremoniously, "C'est pien--that's all right,"
and disappeared.

They breathed again more freely. Hunger having reasserted itself, supper
was ordered. It would take half an hour to prepare, so while two
servants were apparently busied about it the travelers dispersed to look
at their rooms. These were all together down each side of a long passage
ending in a door with ground glass panels.

At last, just as they were sitting down to table, the innkeeper himself
appeared. He was a former horse-dealer, a stout asthmatic man with
perpetual wheezings and blowings and rattlings of phlegm in his throat.
His father had transmit