"Monsieur," said the old man, "I only wanted to bid you God speed. Yes, yes, you English have saved us. But for you they, the German pigs, bah! would have been in Paris before now. They would have repeated 1870. I was in that _debacle_, monsieur, and I know what I felt. If we had been willing to violate our treaty and had fallen back on Belgian territory, we might have saved ourselves. But no, a treaty was a treaty, and our word was given. Death rather than dishonour, monsieur! But they haven't had another Sedan this time. And why? It was because you English turned the scales. Ah, but you English can fight, and you are good comrades. Monsieur, I salute you! We shall win, _mon capitaine_." "We'll give them a run for their money, anyhow," said Bob, dropping into colloquial French. "Good, monsieur; that's it. And you are doing it for honour's sake. We lost in 1870, because we would not violate what those German pigs called a 'scrap of paper,' and now you are going to save us for the same thing. All for 'a scrap of paper.' They do not know what honour is! They cannot understand. But we shall win. We are driving them back. They are nearly at Mezieres now. They will soon be over the border. And then!" "And then---- Yes, then we shall see what we shall see. But thank you for your good wishes, monsieur." Train after train moved slowly out, while old women waved their handkerchiefs and young girls threw kisses, and all poured out their blessings. The thing that seemed to impress them was that England, who had nothing to gain, and who needed not have taken any part in the war, was throwing all her great weight on their side for the sake of the _Entente Cordiale_, and for the sake of our honour. A few hours later Bob found himself in Paris. Several of the trains had gone by another route, but both Bob and Captain Pringle, with many others, were ordered to Paris. Here they stayed one day, and then went on to the front. Although he had often heard how the British soldier was loved in Paris, Bob had no conception of the truth until he got there. The attention which he and Captain Pringle received was embarrassing. Wherever they went they were watched and followed, while remarks of the most complimentary nature were made about them. Even in the restaurant where they went for dinner a number of Frenchmen entered with them, and insisted on paying for their repast. "No, no, messieurs," they exclaimed, when Bob protested; "but you are our guests. You come as our friends, you come to help us to fight our battles. Your visit must cost you nothing. _Vive l'Angleterre!_" Both men and women vied with each other in courteous acts. They insisted on shaking hands again and again, they plied them with cigarettes, while Bob was very much confused by two elderly dames, both of whom insisted on kissing him on both cheeks.