ady quartered
in the house and who came in as we were preparing to depart for
supper. They were Captain B----, Chevalier de la Legion, Lieutenant
the Vicomte de B----, and their orderly. The officers immediately took
possession of the lantern and conducted us out into the gardens to
behold the piles of broken bottles which the Germans had strewn
about. They informed us that these were some of the remains of fifteen
thousand bottles of champagne which had been taken by the invaders
from the warehouse cellars of our host alone. M. Guyot had not
volunteered this information, but now confirmed that fact and added
with simplicity that his champagne business and the prosperity of his
house would be much curtailed for some time to come.

Our host's residence was in such disorder that he suggested that the
supper table should be laid at the house of one of his employees who
lived near-by in the village, and we all started together through the
darkness, taking stock of our provisions as we walked. The French
officers had tea and two loaves of bread which they had obtained from
the Commissariat; M. Guyot, in the expectation of having guests, had
managed to amass three pigeons, five eggs, and several tomatoes, and
we Americans excavated such endless quarts of potatoes from our
automobile that the Frenchmen amidst roars of laughter had cried
"Assez! Assez!"

Our host and his friends decided that the repast should be called a
dinner and should be given in honor of the new France and of the
glorious victory just won, the first to rest upon the French arms in
more than sixty years. What more fitting, they asked, than that we
neutrals should witness this celebration? The Vicomte de B---- busied
himself with reciting the menu: entree, omelette parmentier; game,
pigeon roti; plat de resistance--pommes de terre Marseillaise; Salade,
tomate--not to speak of toast and tea. M. Guyot hinted darkly and
mysteriously that he would attend to the wine list; we should have
laughed at this had we not realized that a wine merchant who has lost
his entire store of wine is not a fit subject for jest.

When we took our places at dinner, our host sat at one end of the
table and Colonel Allen at the other. The former then explained that a
little cellar where he kept his most precious wines had been
undiscovered by the invaders and that the wine list would include the
precious champagne of '93 and a very old Bordeaux. His aged employee,
who had served