“Mademoiselle from Monte Carlo— Out the window you must go!” “Mademoiselle from old Toulouse, A beautiful lady, but O how loose!” “Mademoiselle from old Bordeaux Takes your francs and growls ‘Let’s go!’” “Mademoiselle from the city of Toul— It ain’t no place for an innocent fool!” “Mademoiselle from the city of Blois— She took one look and said ‘Ou la la!’” “Mademoiselle from St. Nazaire, A virgin, she claims, till we got there.” “Mademoiselle from Romorantin Took your breath and left ya pantin’.” I had heard some of these before, and a lot of others, but I never heard so many verses all at one time. They bade fair to continue all night, for as soon as one singer lost his wits or his voice, another popped up to carry on. Someone started the series, relating the sad story of one young mademoiselle, which starts with “Farmer, have you a daughter fine, Fit for a soldier just out of the line? “Yes, I have a daughter fine But she’s too damned young for your design! And this tragic tale ends with telling how the mademoiselle’s son— “The little devil he grew and he grew, He’ll grow up to be a soldier, too!” It was just at this point that I suddenly became aware of someone’s presence at my shoulder and I looked up to find Jay-Jay Marfield studying me rather contemptuously. I decided, as soon as I recovered from the shock, to take desperate measures at once, obeying the military rule that the best defense is a good offense. I stuck out my hand and exclaimed, “Hello, Jay-Jay, you old hellion—how the hell are you?” The look on his face changed as much as it would if I had hit him. And before he could recover, I continued with a half-drunken effort to introduce him to my table companion. “Lieutenant Marfield, shake hands with an officer and a gentleman and a judge of good liquor—Captain Winstead!” The Captain smiled and extended his hand, which Jay-Jay mechanically accepted and shook as the Captain said pleasantly, “Won’t you join us, Lieutenant?” Jay-Jay hesitated, mumbling something about “a party down the line,” but he finally sat down and explained his presence by saying, “I thought I recognized ... er ... the Sergeant here.” Captain Winstead saved me from speaking by observing, “Yes—he looks so much like his sister, I imagine it makes you homesick just to look at him.” “I beg pardon!” Jay-Jay was flustered. But the Captain was either deliberately malicious, or else the drinks had really affected him, for he proceeded very unconcernedly, “She’s such a beautiful girl and he looks so much like her—and you were so fond of her, you know—or were you——?”