“I know when people like one’s looks. It is not for that reason they stare.” “Ignore them,” said Brand. “Tell me about Franz, and Frau von Detmold.” It was unwise of him to sprinkle his conversation with German names. The waiter at our tables was listening attentively. Presently I saw him whispering behind the screen to one of his comrades and looking our way sullenly. He kept us waiting an unconscionable time for coffee, and when at last Brand gave his arm to Elsa and led her from the room, he gave a harsh laugh as they passed, and I heard the words, “_Sale Boche!_” spoken in a low tone of voice yet loud enough for all the room to hear. From all the little tables there came titters of laughter and those words “_Sale Boche!_” were repeated by several voices. I hoped that Elsa and Brand had not heard, but I saw Elsa sway a little on her husband’s arm as though struck by an invisible blow, and Brand turned with a look of passion, as though he would hit the waiter or challenge the whole room to warfare. But Elsa whispered to him, and he went with her up the staircase to their rooms. The next morning when I met them at breakfast Elsa still looked desperately tired, though very happy, and Brand had lost a little of his haggard look, and his nerve was steadier. But it was an uncomfortable moment for all of us when the manager came to the table and regretted with icy courtesy that their rooms would not be available another night, owing to a previous arrangement which he had unfortunately overlooked. “Nonsense!” said Brand shortly. “I have taken these rooms for three nights, and I intend to stay in them.” “It is impossible,” said the manager. “I must ask you to have your baggage packed by twelve o’clock.” Brand dealt with him firmly. “I am an English officer. If I hear another word from you I will call on the Provost Marshal and get him to deal with you.” The manager bowed. This threat cowed him, and he said no more about a change of rooms. But Brand and his wife, and I as their friend, suffered from a policy of passive resistance to our presence. The chambermaid did not answer their bell, having become strangely deaf. The waiter was generally engaged at other tables whenever we wanted him. The hall porter turned his back upon us. The page-boys made grimaces behind our backs, as I saw very well in the gilt mirror, and as Elsa saw. They took to having their meals out, Brand insisting always that I should join them, and we drove out to the Bois and had tea there in the _Châlet des Iles_. It was a beautiful afternoon in September, and the leaves were just turning to crinkled gold and the lake was as blue as the cloudless sky above. Across the ferry came boatloads of young Frenchmen with their girls, singing, laughing, on this day of peace. Some of the men limped as they came up the steps from the landing-stage. One walked on crutches. Another had an empty sleeve. Under the trees they made love to their girls and fed them with rose-tinted ices.