"Any one from Frankfort amongst you?" another asked. "Merde!" said he, as nobody replied and turned and walked off. Then came a surprise. A negro in the uniform of the Legion stalked up to me, regarding me dubiously, shaking his head as if he was not quite sure what to make of me. "Talk U.S.?" he asked finally. "Guess I do," I said. "Golly," yelled the nigger, "here's another! You'se a h---- of a d---- fool! Doucement, doucement, white man--now, don't get mad. You'se surely is a fool! What in h---- you want to come here for?" The humour of the situation struck me. Besides, I always rather liked darkies. "What did _you_ come here for?" I asked him. "Me?" said the nigger disgusted, "me? This child's been fooled, see? I'se in Paris (this here nigger's been 'bout pretty much) and a great big doggone Paris cop nabbed me, see? Oh, 'bout nuffing particular. I'se been having a swell time in one ob dem little Paris restorangs--sweet times, honey! I'se kissed all the girls and I'se kicked eberyding else. Say--it was a mess. But this here cop got in and he got me all right--no flies on the Paris cops, honey! In the station house they done a lot of talking to this here nigger, 'bout French penitentiaries, mostly. They did done tell me, it was penitentiary or Legion. This child stuck to the American Consul, o' course. Say, he was no good either. Says he, he done got no time to go fooling wid fresh niggers. Take yer medicine, says he. Which I did--taking the Legion. Nix penitentiary for me. That's what this child come here for, sonny! Bet yer a cigarette you'se be as sick of them Legion people in 'bout four weeks as this nigger is, sure. No good. Nix good. D---- bad!" "I knew that before," said I. "Then you'se sure done gone crazy, to come he-ar, sonny. Wait a bit, white man. I'se going to tell Smith. He's an American. He's all right. So long!" And in the shambling gait of his race he walked hurriedly away. One of the recruits hailed from Munich. He was in high debate with another Bavarian légionnaire.... "You're from Munich, you fool? There's no beer here!" the old légionnaire yelled. "Why didn't you stay in Munich and stick to the beer, eh? Isn't it bad enough if one Munich fool drinks their sticky old wine? Why, I've almost forgotten how a 'Masskrug' looks, and what the 'Hofbraühaus' is like. It's a sinful shame, it is. Yes, there's no beer here. You'll be surprised, you will!" I was still laughing at the two légionnaires from the city of beer and "Steins" when an old soldier started talking to me very softly. "Won't you give me your suit of clothes? You must sell it, you know, and you will not get more than a few sous for it." I looked at the man. "Why do you want my clothes?" I asked him.