70 the citizens of
France ate _ragout de chat_ with relish. Furthermore, the roast was of
so delicious a flavor and so closely resembled the finest cuts of
beef, that it was easy to persuade one's self that it was beef, after
all.

After the meal, to our great surprise, every one cleaned his dishes
with huge pieces of bread. Such waste seemed criminal in a country
beleaguered by submarines, in its third year of war, and largely
dependent for its food-supply on the farm labor of women and children.
We should not have been surprised if it had been only the Americans
who indulged in this wasteful dish-cleansing process; but the
Frenchmen did it, too. When I remarked upon this to one of my American
comrades, a Frenchman, sitting opposite, said:--

"Pardon, monsieur, but I must tell you what we Frenchmen are. We are
very economical when it is for ourselves, for our own families and
purses, that we are saving. But when it is the Government which pays
the bill, we do not care. We do not have to pay directly and so we
waste, we throw away. We are so careful at home, all of our lives,
that this is a little pleasure for us."

I have had this same observation made to me by so many Frenchmen since
that time, that I believe there must be a good deal of truth in it.

After supper, all of the Americans adjourned for coffee to Ciret's, a
little cafe in the village which nestles among the hills not far from
the camp. The cafe itself was like any one of thousands of French
provincial restaurants. There was a great dingy common room, with a
sanded brick floor, and faded streamers of tricolor paper festooned in
curious patterns from the smoky ceiling. The kitchen was clean, and
filled with the appetizing odor of good cooking. Beyond it was
another, inner room, "_toujours reservee a mes Americains_," as M.
Ciret, the fat, genial _patron_ continually asserted. Here we gathered
around a large circular table, pipes and cigarettes were lighted, and,
while the others talked, Drew and I listened and gathered impressions.

For a time the conversation did not become general, and we gathered up
odds and ends of it from all sides. Then it turned to the reasons
which had prompted various members of the group to come to France, the
topic, above all others, which Drew and I most wanted to hear
discussed. It seemed to me, as I listened, that we Americans closely
resemble the British in our sensitive fear of any display of fine
personal feeling. We