"My dear fellow, what do you do in ordinary times?"
Respect for the journal causes me to hesitate somewhat. But then, this war excuses everything, and I confess—
"I am on the editorial staff of the Figaro, monsieur."
"Indeed? you don't look like it!"
He laughs heartily, introduces his wife, and ... invites me to lunch.
My hosts have three sons at the front; they attend to my wants as though I were one of these. Then they motor me back to Humes. I cannot find words to thank them, nor do I know how to tell them that I will not forget their kindness.
The Hôtel Girardot and Père Achille at the door! He recognizes me.
"A ghost!"
Everybody comes running up.