we got there early. nearly all the old "peloton" lot were to meet there that evening. the large room at the back had been put at our disposal.

punch was served to everyone. toasts were drunk half as a rag. there was a tap-room atmosphere. everyone was in uproarious spirits—feverish with the excitement of the departure which was so close at hand. a school-master named groningaire started off with a song—he had a good voice—then some patriotic verses, while we sang the refrain in chorus.

miquel went to the piano.

"go it! play us something!"

he was known to be a performer.

"what style do you want?"

"oh, anything! improvise something!"

"the 'battle,' g-r-r-r-r-r and symphony!"

there was a general laugh. he sat down on the music stool.

"first part. four o'clock in the morning."

his fingers raced over the keys. a running accompaniment in the bass suggested the army sleeping. a high note, the bugle call, suddenly burst forth followed instantaneously by shouts, the stir of troops[pg 104] awakening and moving to and fro, and the neighing of horses....

"bravo!"

reminiscences no doubt of melodies he had composed or learnt. his rare skill soldered them into a sort of pot-pourri, which was at the same time both genial and burlesque. he jerked out the titles of motifs: the start at dawn, the approach of the enemy, the deployment, then the surprise of the first shots, the scattering, and the reply.... the pianist's fancy multiplied and expanded, painting an extraordinary picture. in the left hand, the cannon rumbled ceaselessly in hollow tones. in the treble a frenzy of staccato notes crackled like a fusillade. between the two, smothered vociferations, and the trampling of the combatants could be distinguished. to end up with there was the charge, swelling harmonies, and a roar of glory and madness, throughout which fragments of the famous "la goutte à boire!!!" recurred persistently.

miquel paused. there was a burst of applause.

"hush!" he said. "wait for the day after...."

he struck a minor chord, succeeded by two or three others, equally lugubrious, a gloomy arpeggio strengthened the impression of mourning.... the day after! yes. there was a slight shudder. i recognised beethoven's funeral march.

"how idiotic! what are you playing that for?"

denais had got up, and was drawing his hand across his forehead. then embarrassed by our glances he forced a wry smile.

"rotting apart, it's not exactly cheerful!"

a few backed him up. others shrugged their shoulders. a discussion began which degenerated[pg 105] into an uproar. laraque took possession of the piano and romped through a "tango" which was applauded. miquel was called upon again; but he refused point blank this time, and it was not very long before he left, perhaps because he was offended.

then guillaumin and i went to swell a group which had formed in a corner, round fortin, who was holding forth.

a robust fellow, with an enormous forehead, and a clever, ugly face, he was repeating the lessons he had just brought back from germany where he had been living for some time. his rich voice carried wonderfully, supported by his energetic gestures. a frequenter of public meetings and debating societies, one was tempted to forgive him if he was rather inclined to like the sound of his own voice, because he spoke well.

to begin with, however, i only half listened to him. he was enlarging upon the industrial qualities of that race, their method, and patience, and tenacity of purpose, their thoroughness in perfecting detail; on their moral virtues too, from which the others sprang.

this sort of thing had been overdone! however at such a time it assumed a striking note of unexpectedness and daring. this frenchman obviously overflowed with sympathy, or at all events admiration for the foe he was about to face.... and not one of us protested.... what impartiality, i thought. was it to our credit, or discredit?

i now followed the speaker's arguments with interest. he occasionally spoke so decidedly and precisely that i suspected him of dishing up for our benefit certain passages already composed for the work he was meditating.

[pg 106]

on the other hand one had the feeling that one was not the dupe of a rhetorician. i was able when necessary to verify the exactitude of his statements by my own recollections.

here he was sketching the portrait of the young german, steady and strong, accustomed from his earliest childhood to long walks with his pack on his back, his first attempts at warlike frolics, keen on swimming, shooting, and gymnastics, more sporting in reality than we were who had been won over to the rough games from over the channel. they were chaste too and had no false shame about admitting it; not exhausted, depraved, and indeed contaminated, as a result of the stupid dissipation which we appear to think necessary for our young men. i could see the companions of my excursions round iéna again,—otto kra?mer, merry, affectionate, and untiring—and so virtuous—questioning me with an innocent smile, quite free of any suspicion of envy, on the pleasures of paris.

fortin showed us how war had become inevitable for these people. since they were suffocating at home! they were a prolific race; that was their foremost merit. the necessity and also the capacity for expansion in a country which in forty years doubles its population! there was the fruitful young sap. to them belonged the future.

we were listening, silent and engrossed, leaning on our elbows.... ladmiraut demanded some detail from time to time. he had pulled out his note-book. guillaumin, who was beside me, seemed to be the only one who could not listen to this language without impatience; he strummed nervously on the marble table-top.

[pg 107]

fortin went on to say that over there it was the entire populace from the kaiser down to the last of the beggars, who dreamt of the greater germany.... the fateful hour had struck.... he reminded us of the saying where the five sons of the german family came to demand a share of his heritage from the only son of the french family. we certainly had no luck in just happening to be the neighbours and thus the picked adversaries of this terribly covetous race, and in holding so many rich provinces that they meant to annex again in the name of ancient traditions for the germanic empire! any schoolboy coming from germany would tell you of their ambitions. to begin with they must have what remained to us of lorraine and champagne and flanders, they'd see about burgundy and the franche-comté, when the occasion arose!

"then you think we shall be beaten?" guillaumin broke in harshly.

it was like a cold douche, we looked at each other. fortin shrugged his broad shoulders.

"i'll tell you one thing, i think, and that is that we're fighting in a cause ... that is out of date. we no longer incarnate a great force worthy of existence. our day is nearly done. just think how long we have held the stage. mark you, i do not say that our end will not be glorious. we are an old fighting race, we shall do wonders, i think, before succumbing. nor do i say that our decline is not to be regretted in the superior interests of civilisation...."

"then you see no hope of anything but decline and disappearance!"

guillaumin's face was kindled, his big nose shone, his hand was clutching at a match stand.

[pg 108]

"sss...! i say. chuck it at his head!" whispered holveck.

someone laughed, and there was a short relaxation.

i did not take my eyes off fortin, wondering whether he would accept the challenge.

and he actually did! he made up his mind to it. it was a thankless task, he said, to go against all our prejudices and cherished illusions. but still, if he was driven to it.... and perhaps it would be better that we should realise what we were in for!...

"yes, start away then!" guillaumin exclaimed. "tell us what you think and what you know!"

what he knew? the other protested that he was not admitted to the secrets of the gods, that he was lacking in the necessary technical knowledge concerning military matters, but that what he feared from certain reliable data, was the "kolossal" force—the word is laughable, not the thing it stands for—of this horde of invaders about to fall upon us. people in france reassured themselves by the aid of simplex calculations. they summarily compared the figures of the population, with the triumphant argument that the enemy must put so and so many men on the russian front.... as if there was not an immense gulf fixed between the actual and the theoretical returns! as if it was not the vitality of the races that would have the last word! or again, the total of germany's effective forces was put at twenty-five corps against our twenty-one corps! only another way of throwing dust in our eyes. who suspected that on the two banks of the rhine there were fifty or sixty corps, already complete with their full complement, ready to be set in motion at a sign and destined to be formed into twelve or fifteen formidable[pg 109] armies. with them there was no waste of material; each individual had his own appointed place, the technicians in the factories; the smallest details were foreseen and provided for, the most recent discoveries in every sphere, exploited. the troops were young and sound, and their discipline was marvellous. each soldier had his map and compass. their uniform was far and away the least noticeable. their equipment was faultless. their heavy artillery unique (it would be our most unpleasant surprise!). they had adopted quite new principles for use in a?rial warfare.... what more was there? the best-regulated commissariat, propaganda among the neutrals, accomplices among their adversaries.... and then the spy system. ah, yes! the spy system!

"oh, magnificent!" muttered guillaumin.

"i beg your pardon. as they wanted war, it was only right that they should be as well prepared for it as possible. one can't help admiring them for that!"

guillaumin, still unconvinced, sneered:

"oh, charming! there's nothing to be done then! and to-morrow a german europe!"

fortin having made a movement as if to say, "why not?" a certain member of us protested all the same: "oh no! anything but that. we would fight for it! the triumph of brute force. government by the sword (all the old catch words), we couldn't stand that...." laraque declared that when we were beaten he should go to live in america. ladmiraut asserted pedantically that all attempts at universal sway were foredoomed to failure. napoleon was an example of it!

fortin retorted:

"we exaggerate when we talk of tyranny....[pg 110] there would be a certain amount of rearranging to be got through. what these people want, is...."

"to pick our pockets," cried guillaumin.

"yes, to pick our pockets, and also...."

fortin let himself be carried away. was it paradox or conviction?

"would you like to know what they want? well, simply the reign of reason, of their reason. to their physical need for conquest is added this intellectual need. i think that in the case of a crushing victory they would not be exacting, that they would content themselves with re-organising and ordering the world to their ideas. the triumph of 'kultur,' yes! without doubt they would allow as many individual liberties and indeed local constitutions, as possible, to subsist. their charter of empire is so convenient! the united states of europe. that is their avowed dream, often expressed by the kaiser. peace, yes, but under the aegis of the hohenzollern, chosen of god! an imposing task to which they bring the fervour of apostles, which to-morrow, on the battle-field will become the fanaticism of martyrs. the horror of this contest does not dismay them, they consider it unavoidable. there are two obstacles in their path; france in their eyes grown old and debased; russia that huge inorganic body, still in a state of barbarism. their idea was to humiliate both nations, with the object of raising them up again later on while imbuing them with the moral and intellectual virtues on which the teuton prides himself. england impedes them equally. this conflict too was fated. they despise the english because they consider them too exclusively concerned with their well-being, with their comfort; too material, shopkeepers, in fact! they themselves[pg 111] pose as idealists and philosophers, but heirs to the spiritualistic traditions, and regardful of the property, of the integri——"

"what about the violation of belgium!" guillaumin interrupted.

"oh, that! that does'nt count: das ist krieg! it's only outside the state of war that they flatter themselves that they're good, just, sentimental, and gentle. it is impossible to deny that their ambition, in the main, is generous; to put an end to the inferior period of improvisation and disorder, and to instigate the reign of perfect equilibrium—of happiness, that is!—among men."

he paused:

"and bear in mind that it must be admitted that no race has ever had a better chance of success than they have at this moment!"

yes, fortin showed us this prodigious result as being remote and still hidden behind the veil of the future, but within reach—all germany was aware of it!—of the present generation or at all events of the next. german europe? but, except for the three powers in question, who were to be overcome by force, was it not that already?

he showed up, in a crude light, the important underground activities of the exchequer and the cabinet; quite another side of the question. italy, our famous latin sister, peremptorily wrested from the sphere of french influence. austria! with what supreme skill the rival of yesterday had been converted into the intimate ally of to-day. turkey: simply a german colony, who, on the day prescribed, would hurl all her weight into the balance. the scandinavian countries, spain, switzerland, holland,—all pronounced german[pg 112]ophils. it was a real miracle that belgium should have barred their way! the church instinctively approving two traditional empires, full of spite and distrust for a republic. and then the balkans! nothing but sad surprises could be awaited, from roumania, whose king, carol, had bound himself by treaty to the fortunes of the central powers; from bulgaria, whose just grievances were being exploited by the enemy; from greece who was retained in this orbit by her king, the kaiser's brother-in-law! a fine piece of work by the wilhelmstrasse! fortin exhibited the play of this far-sighted and prudent diplomacy, which had been weaving its web for so long, and peopling the european thrones with german princes and queens for the last fifty years.

there was no gainsaying it. this fellow, fortin, was deucedly interesting! we were all listening, down to the most rowdy group, who had little by little stopped talking and come up. there were but few protestations now. foreheads, furrowed by wrinkles, were unconsciously bowed in assent.

but there was a sudden climax. a dry voice made itself heard behind us. we turned round. a lieutenant was standing on the threshold of the room.

"your name! i want the speaker's name!"

we were all stupefied. fortin got up.

"and 'stand at attention' first of all."

the other explained the position. he was pale.

"your company?"

"the seventeenth."

"you're a despicable worm! you dare to speak in such a way! you, a french non-commissioned officer! what would a german say or do? get back to your quarters at once. you'll hear from me later."

[pg 113]

the officer's voice was trembling. fortin did not reply. liberty was dead! he took down his belt which was hanging on a hook, shook the few hands held out to him, then saluted and left the room.

what a douche! a dismayed silence reigned for a few minutes. at last we left the place, but even outside we hardly spoke.

"lieutenant coudray, wasn't it?"

"there's no knowing where this may end...."

"court-martial!"

ladmiraut unburdened himself.

"just what i said; fortin exaggerates."

"exactly!"

everyone agreed that it was bound to happen.

it seemed to me that our voices were lowered. did we mistrust each other? really, the unexpected appearance of this officer!... someone must have gone to warn him.... these were nice times, certainly!

we separated, and guillaumin took me home as usual.

"i don't wish him any ill," he said, "but you must confess that he was asking for it!"

"who? fortin?"

"yes."

"why?"

"oh, look here! he said enough to make one jump through the ceiling. no, but can you see the bosches calmly laying hands on champagne and flanders!"

i was still suffering from the effects of the irritation and humiliation aroused in me by the intervention of the lieutenant. i could hear his cutting voice. some rotter or other! but there was nothing to be done, but to bow before his superior rank.

[pg 114]

it must be added that i had come under the depressing influence.... what a hit it was at my illusions, at our groundless self-confidence! to go and get killed for a cause we knew was already lost. oh, it really was the limit!

a cold rage filled me. i vented it on poor guillaumin to begin with. he was on the point of returning to the subject of his champagne and his flanders.... one would have thought they belonged to him and that someone wanted to pick his pocket of them!

none of that! i shut him up, and told him what an ass i thought him. the dull resentment which had been heaped up in me by these first days of subjection, rose up from the depths of my being. and i did not stop at that; my egoism and the anarchism of my bad days rebelled.

i suddenly announced that i hoped the socialistic agitations would come to something.

"what agitations?" guillaumin asked.

"oh!" i said. "they were keeping quiet on the subject, by order! but they existed, could not help existing in spite of certain recantations. would they smother the peoples' poignant cry for peace at any price, much longer? war on the war!" following up the bold refrain, i asserted that i should like to see the workmen who had been called up, fire their first shots at the instigators of the catastrophe, all these statesmen, generals, and financiers of both countries, who were driving two peaceful nations to the slaughter! as if all the political and economic interests in the world were worth this massacre of innocents!

i went further—or lower. i blush when i remember to what degrading lengths i allowed myself to go.[pg 115] if our neighbours were really so passionately anxious for the expansion of their "kultur" as fortin had said they were, did he, guillaumin, know what remained to be done? simply fold our arms and wait for them. they would not devour us, or at least not all of us! we should be invaded? and then? annexed? what a misfortune that would be to be sure! there would be no more france? well, if she had to disappear, why not to-morrow, just as well as in a hundred years!... all these tales of separate races, and of native lands were simply the patter of disastrous phrase-makers.... let all those who believed them go and get killed for them. there could be nothing more just! to the frontier with the enthusiasts, the convinced—the imbeciles—who could not bear the idea of changing their names. but as for us, for me, who did not care a blow about it all...!

"talk away!" said guillaumin.

"what?"

"you won't take me in!"

"how do you mean?"

"you want to get a rise out of me!"

"i?"

"you'll fight as well as the best of them!"

"well, what will that prove?"

he did not answer me. there was no need. i was at a loss for words. i was pinked.

recall to reality. the time was past for weighing the reasons for and against. the philosophic juggling. the superior sphere of action, offered itself, nay imposed itself upon us.... fortin, guillaumin, i myself; we were all in uniform, we were going to fight.... then there was only one thing to be done, to strain our muscles and our soul, to stake[pg 116] our fate on hope and on faith in our cause. what folly to be both judge and suitor. what grandeur in belief, even when absurd!

if only i had been sure that i should fight as well as he said i should!