Five times we watched the same operation recommence ere the ten o'clock train decided to leave Paris. Then as the guard went along the platform slamming the doors, a boyish face poked its way into the aperture of our compartment. "Hello, Louis," said he, addressing one of the workmen. "Hello, Louis, you here, too?" "_Eh bien, cette fois je crois quon y va! Hein?_" Our door closed and the trainman whistled. "_Bon voyage!_" shouted the boy through the window. "The same to you," replied the other. That was all. It was not a very eventful journey. It was merely hot and lengthy. We stopped at every little way station either to let down or take on passengers. We were side-tracked and forgotten for what seemed hours at a time, to allow speedy express trains filled with men and bound for the eastern frontier to pass on and be gone. At Changis-St. Jean I put my head out of the window and there witnessed a most touching sight. A youngish man in a well-fitting captain's uniform, accompanied by his wife and two pretty babies, was preparing to take his leave. He was evidently well known and esteemed in his little village, for the curate, the mayor, the municipal council and numerous friends had come to see him off. The couple bore up bravely until the whistle blew-then, clasping each other in an almost brutal embrace, they parted, he to jump into the moving train mid the shouts of well-wishers, and she, her shoulders shaking with emotion, to return to her empty home. Four months later, almost to a day, I again put my head out of the car window as we stopped at Changis. Imagine my surprise on seeing almost the same group! I recognized the mayor, the curate and the others, and a little shiver went down my back as I caught sight of the pretty captain's wife--her eyes red and swollen beneath the long widow's veil that covered her face. That same hopeful little assembly of August first had once again gathered on the station platform to take possession of and to conduct to their last resting place the mortal remains of their heroic defunct. Naturally, as they did not expect us before six at the château, there was no carriage to meet us. "We'll take the hotel taxi as far as Charly, and from there we'll telephone home," said H. as we got down from the train. But there was neither hotel trap nor vehicle of any description at the station. True it was that our train was nearly two hours late! The idea of walking some four miles in the broiling sun was anything but amusing, but there seemed to be nothing else to do. So after a quarter of an hour uselessly spent in trying to get a carriage about our lonesome station, we started off on foot. We had scarcely gone two hundred yards when we caught sight of a PARISIAN taxi! H. hailed him! "What are you doing down _here?_"