"Where shall I serve the gentlemen?"
For a moment there was deep silence. The guests had just perceived the first comer and did not seem to be impressed by his appearance. Nevertheless, the man who looked like a soldier decided that they should be served at one of the side tables. When he said this Girdel looked up, and his features showed that the new-comers were not strangers to him. The man in the brown overcoat laughed mockingly when he perceived that the two strangers chose a table as far away from his as possible. He looked fixedly at them, and when Schwan brought him the brandy he had ordered, he filled his glass and emptied it at one gulp. He then took some newspapers out of his pocket and began to read, holding the pages in such a way as to conceal his face.
The host now brought the ham and eggs. As he placed them on the table, the carman hastily asked:
"How far is it, sir, from here to Remiremont?"
"To Remiremont? Ah, I see the gentlemen do not belong to the vicinity. To Remiremont is about two hours."
"So much the better; we can get there then in the course of the afternoon."
"That is a question," remarked Schwan.
"How so? What do you mean?"
"The road is very bad," he replied.
"That won't be so very dangerous."