"Je ne parle pas…."
"That's all right," said I.
I walked slowly through the quaint narrow streets and alleys of Belfort. Shop after shop, store after store, and before each and every one of them stood flat tables packed with things for sale, taking up most of the pavement. Here was a good chance for a thief, I thought, and laughed, marvelling that in my despair the affairs of the Belfort storekeepers could interest me. Mechanically I looked about and saw a house of wonderful blue; the city fathers of Belfort had built their new market-hall almost wholly of sapphire-blue glass, which scintillated in the rays of the sun, giving an effect such as no painter has as yet been able to reproduce. I felt sorry that a building of such beauty should be condemned to hold prosaic potatoes and greenstuff. Vivacious Frenchmen and Frenchwomen hurried by hustling and jostling each other in the crowded streets…. Don't hurry about so. Life is certainly not worth the trouble!
Ironical thoughts could not alter matters, nor could even the most wonderful blue help me to forget. I must get it over.
A very young-looking lieutenant came up the street. I spoke to him in my rusty college French:
"Would you please to direct me to the recruiting office of the Foreign Legion?"
The officer touched his "kepi" politely and seemed rather astonished.
"You can come with me, monsieur. I am on the way to the offices of the fortress."
We went together.
"You seem to be German?" he said. "I may be able to assist you. I am adjutant to the general commanding the fortress."