From another table a voice responds: "Yes, fellows, it's better than a kick in the shins, every time!" The last mouthful gone, the cider bottles empty, they tighten the straps of their kit bags and rise regretfully from their seats. "_Allez_. Off again, boys! _C'est la guerre_!" and they shuffle away humming and filling their pipes. From the direction of the _buvette_, or bar comes noisy laughter followed by oaths. The uncertain voice of a seemingly intoxicated individual dominates all others. Yet nothing but soft drinks are sold. "As the Colonel of the 243rd used to say," it continues, "'Soldiers of my regiment, repose upon your arms!' My arms are the bottle! My bottle and my wife are the only things worth while when I'm on furlough. I----" His voice disappeared an instant, dimmed by the rising tumult. Then suddenly it broke forth anew-- "Attention! Present arms, here comes a coal scuttle. Now then,--flatten out on the back of your stomach!" An instant later the man appeared at the threshold of the dining room. He was a heavily built, big jointed, husky Norman farmer-soldier, with his helmet pulled down low over his eyes, so that the upper part of his face was completely hidden from view. Suddenly he pushed it far back on his head, and casting a sweeping glance over the assembled diners, he called forth in stentorian tones that made every one turn around: "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" The cashier behind the counter, who evidently foresaw trouble, called out to him in shrill tones: "You've made a mistake, go back to the _buvette_. You've nothing to do out here!" Removing his helmet, the gallant knight made the lady a sweeping bow. "Your servant, Madame. Your humble servant," he continued. "Cyprien Fremont, called Cyp for short." "Did you hear what I said? Now then, take yourself off," cried the ungracious adored one. But the _poilu_ was not to be so silenced. Putting his hand to his heart and addressing the assembly: "Ungrateful country!" he cried, "is it thus that you receive your sons who shed their blood for you?" "That's all right, but go and tell it elsewhere. Go on, I say!" "I've only got one more word to say and then it will be over." But before he could utter that word his companions seized him and dragged him back from whence he came. As he disappeared from view, we heard him announce his intention of "doing some stunts"--which offer was apparently joyously accepted, followed by more laughter and several "dares." Suddenly the most terrific noise of falling and breaking glass and china brought every one to his feet. Excited voices could be heard from the direction in which Cyprien had vanished. The army police dashed in, followed by the station master and all the employes. A lengthy discussion was begun, and having finished our dinner we left matters to adjust themselves and sauntered forth onto the platform.