A belated gust of wind smote his face and left it moist. He rose in a determined manner and adjusted his helmet. "_Adieu_, my Camel!" He took a last survey of the machine. "The kitchen is calling to my appetite; a storm is brewing in the heavens; a pair of dark eyes is urging all the romance within me; so--mill-stream or no mill-stream--_mon oncle_, I come." He squared his shoulders and, with the rather absurd long stride and the odd raising of the knee, made for the cottage door, from underneath which a faint glow of light was timidly emerging. III In response to his knock there was a roar from within, and the door opened enough to show the young lady in the doorway. "Good evening," he said gravely. "I saw the light in here and decided to accept its kindly invitation." She glanced over her shoulder; but the airman, gently putting her to one side, entered and looked serenely about the room, which appeared to be kitchen, dining-room, and parlor in one. Beside the stove he noticed the stooped figure of a man, whose huge black beard straggled over a suit of overalls that had once been dark blue, but had become a dirty white from constant association with flour. "Good evening, monsieur." The airman handed his helmet to the girl and proceeded to unbutton his coat. The miller's blotched eyes rose sulkily to the visitor's face. "What do you want here?" His voice was nasal and slovenly, and there was a hoarse growl in the words, as though his throat was parched and rusted. "I am doing myself the honor of taking supper with you, monsieur." The airman's face was full of melancholy dignity as he divested himself of his coat. The miller's mouth opened, and a rasping, deep snarl resonated disagreeably. "There is the village, five kilometers that way." "Ah--but that is five kilometers too far." "You cannot stay here"--the miller's voice rose angrily--"there is but food for two." The Englishman tapped his pipe against his heel, and blew through it to ensure its being empty. "Then, monsieur," he said, "you must go hungry." The Frenchman rose to his feet and brandished both arms above his head. "Go!" he bellowed, and swore an oath that comprised a reference to the sacred name of one dog and the sudden demise of the afore-mentioned ten thousand devils who, it appeared, rested heavily on his conscience. "Mademoiselle"--the young man turned politely to the girl--"I apologize for this gentleman. Shall I throw him into the stream, or would a cleansing spoil his particular style of mottled beauty?"