my char-woman woke me by bringing me the papers, which i read in bed.

to think that it had not come yet! it was true that all intercourse had been broken off between berlin and st. petersburg, and even on our frontier there had already been some deaths, the samain brothers and the curé de moineville. provocations and outrages were multiplying and increasing in severity. our forces nevertheless were still kept back two miles from the frontier. m. de scho?n was still about. they were talking!

the papers did not cover more than a page now, and were quickly read. they all contained the same incoherent communiqués and the rare telegrams which were allowed by the censor (already!) to trickle through.

details in plenty on the manifestations in paris and in the provinces. the same old story! in one of them there was a technical article headed "the defence of nancy." this title interested me. i, like most other people, felt so certain that this town was doomed; at the mercy of the first masterly move.

what baffled me was the placid, docile attitude of my friends the socialists. how little one heard of[pg 61] them! it was true that the censor ... but never mind! jaurès, as he was dying, had left them the order to go on, and they were going on. closed ranks and obedience and confidence were the orders of the day. arguments were left for another time! and on my honour, it was very fine!

my purchases of the preceding day were delivered. i asked the boy who brought them, if he was going to fight.

"of course!"

he was a cheery soul. he liked the idea of knocking the bosches on the head; he had no great opinion of them chaps. and then besides that, it was worth takin' a bit o' trouble to get a breath of fresh air, for him whose week had been spent in running errands, and his sundays as assistant in a picture palace, for how long...? blowed if it wasn't five blooming years—yes, ever since he was a nipper of seventeen—he'd never set eyes on the country....

were there many like that, i wondered.

when i tried on my boots they seemed to me to squeeze me. was there a pad in the heel? i put in my hand but brought nothing out. i should have to squash the counter to make it more pliable.

no business called me out-of-doors. my list of errands had been exhausted the day before. what friend should i go to see? they would all be running about the town in the excitement and emotion of departures and farewells. i would go and dine with laquarrière this evening, that would be enough for me. i had made up my mind that the streets would look just as commonplace as they had yesterday, and i should get all the information i wanted from the newspapers.

[pg 62]

i stayed quietly at home, looking through my papers and reading over some old letters. the idea of making my will occurred to me.... but, when once i was gone, what would it matter to me?

my friends in the regiment would have laughed if they had known to what i had been tempted to consecrate my day, ever since i woke up. i went and fished up a book in a grey cover from the bottom of my book-case; my old handbook for non-commissioned officers.

i had not opened the book since the beginning of my military service, not even when i had been put in command of a section. it was quite possible, to-day, in view of the deficiency of officers, that i should be given a commission.

so i lunched at home. i got through almost the whole of the book; for instance the "section in action," and "field operations," "alimentation," and "hygiene," such chapters as i agreed with in letter and in spirit. but with what disdain did i skip everything concerning peace time or even garrison duty.

towards evening, somebody rang the bell: laquarrière.

i greeted him with, "a good idea, old fellow! i was coming round to say good-bye."

"oh yes, of course. you're off!" he said.

he had escaped his military service, thanks to being slightly short-sighted, and to the fact that he could demand a good deal of interest.

he was my only intimate. we had never been parted during our school days at the lycèe at tours. we had come up to paris in the same year to begin our legal studies. the bar had attracted him; he seemed[pg 63] to be going to succeed there; he had been accepted when still quite young as secretary to the "conférence." we met almost every evening; we dined and then idled together; our tastes agreed. together we had forged a philosophy, drawn from various sources, which fulfilled all our requirements. how completely our ideas harmonised in our wholesale scorn for people and things, and for ourselves, our hatred of appearances and of sentiment! we were candid, almost to the point of brutality, in our dealings with each other. courtesy and consideration were well enough for fools. i took a delight in the thought that our surly bearing towards each other hid a firm friendship.

"you stay here, i suppose! your usual luck!"

he found nothing to say to me but:

"bah! some will come back, after all!"

"to think," i continued, "that in a fortnight i may be under fire!"

"yes. i can see you at it!"

"how do you think i shall get on?"

"not brilliantly!"

"what do you know about it?"

"i know you."

i protested;

"that's idiotic! i'm sure there's a special grace given to uphold you!"

he conceded:

"that's true enough. one must be utterly dazed and allow oneself to be driven, without knowing what one is doing or where one is going."

this opinion shocked me.

"you exaggerate! i admit that may be so for the [pg 64]soldiers, wretched beasts of burden, ... but when once you are an n.c.o., and have responsibility of some kind...."

"one more chance of losing your head."

i denied it. i, for instance, absorbed by the anxiety of leading my men, was sure partially to forget the danger....

"bah! once there, morale is the only thing that counts."

"well?"

"you won't get me to believe...."

i hesitated, then i said:

"after all. if i am going to fight, it only depended on me ... i was in switzerland...."

he sneered:

"no humbugging! you came back for reasons which had nothing at all to do with patriotism! simply because if you had not done so, your position, your cash, and your little mode of living, would all have gone overboard at one fell blow."

his words reminded me of the vague hopes which had suggested themselves to me two days before.

"listen! i certainly won't hide from you the fact that i envy you. i should be delighted to stay under shelter like you. and yet ... shall i own up to a certain kind of curiosity? war? this war. the greatest of all! it seems to me that it's worth experiencing. what an amazing opportunity for accumulating memories, and also of refreshing oneself, of drawing near to nature!"

he exploded. good heavens! did i think it would have the faintest interest for me! was not the peculiarity of modern campaign a terrible tedium? you never see the enemy. you spend days in shovelling ground about. the operations are on such a vast[pg 65] scale that the majors and colonels themselves often do not follow them in the least.

"and you're counting on it for distraction and refreshment. poor old chap! it would have been well worth making yourself scarce. well, you're in for it now. what do you want? regeneration by war! back to the land! i'm quite content! if you consider that your life was becoming too monotonous, go and amuse yourself by getting a piece of shrapnel into you, over yonder towards epinal! that will wake you up a bit!"

he had beaten me. i contented myself with assuming a jeering expression, in order to let him think i had been pulling his leg.