He winked cunningly at Schmidt, who laughed.

“You’re no great hero,” said the German, “but if a man wants to take care of his skin can he be blamed for doing so?  Still, you’re not so safe here.”

“How’s that?” asked John in assumed alarm.

“Now and then the French send shells over that mountain in front of us and when one is fired it’s bound to hit somewhere.  We haven’t had any at this point yet, but our time is sure to come sooner or later.”

“Then I think I’ll be going,” said John, willing to maintain his new reputation as a timid man.

Schmidt laughed again.

“Oh, no, not yet,” he said.  “Your passport isn’t ready, and without it you can’t move.  Have another glass of this beer.  It was made in Munich, and puts heart into a man.”

John drank.  It was really fine beer, and the food was excellent, warm and well cooked.  He had not realized before how hungry and thirsty he was.  It was a hunger and thirst that the cold meat and bread in his knapsack and snow water would not have assuaged.  Many Germans also were refreshing themselves.  He had noticed that in both armies the troops were always well fed.  Distances were short, and an abundance of railways brought vast quantities of supplies from fertile regions.

While he was still eating he heard a shriek and a roar and a huge shell burst two or three hundred yards away.  Much earth was torn up, four men were wounded slightly and an empty ambulance was overturned, but the regular life of the German army went on undisturbed.

“I told you that we had French messengers now and then,” said Lieutenant Schmidt, holding a glass of beer in his right hand and a sausage in his left, “but that message was delivered nearer to us than any other in three days.  I don’t think they’ll fire again for a half-hour, and the chances are a hundred to one that it will fall much further away.  So why be disturbed?”

Lieutenant Schmidt was beginning to feel happy.  He had a sentimental German soul, and all the beer he wanted brought all his benevolence to the surface.

“I like you, Castel,” he said.  “Your blood is French, of course, or it was once, but you of Lorraine have had all the benefits of German culture and training.  A German you were born, a German you have remained, and a German you will be all your life.  The time is coming when we will extend the blessings of our German culture to all of France, and then to England, and then maybe to the whole world.”

Lieutenant Schmidt had drunk a great deal of beer, and even beer when taken in large quantities may be heady.  His tongue was loose and long.

“And to that distant and barbarous country, America, too,” said John.

“Aye, and to the Americans also,” said Lieutenant Schmidt.  “I hear that they don’t love us, although they have much of our blood in their veins.  There are many people among them bearing German names who denounce us.  When we finish with our enemies here in Europe we’ll teach the barbarous Americans to love the Kaiser.”