We are trying to prepare for all emergencies. People who, before the siege began, seemed to have reasonable intelligence, and, if one had thought about such a thing, looked as if they would show up pretty well if they were put to it, have now gone to pieces entirely, lacking apparently the desire even to appear courageous. The men often make some trifling ailment an excuse to shirk all work for the common defence, and spend their time groaning over the situation, and becoming more hateful daily to the men and women upon whom the real responsibilities of the siege are resting; while the women who have collapsed simply spend their hours, day and night, behind the nearest closed door, and await each fresh attack to indulge in new hysterical scenes. I can honestly say there are more men to the bad than women. When anyone becomes really seized with this terror they lose all sense of proportion—the slightest provocation brings forth torrents of self-pity, and they ask only for the impossible. To-day I took the French governess her dinner, into which, I must admit, the cook had dashed the curry-powder rather too strongly. With this small _contretemps_ as a starter, she seized my hands, and with heart-breaking sobs begged me to save her, as she knew, from the unusual taste of her food, that someone was trying to poison her. “Mademoiselle, je ne demande que peu, simplement qu’on me retourne tout de suite en France.” To tell her we had all eaten the same curry, and that it was as impossible to send her to France as it was to send her to the moon, were words thrown away; she was hopelessly unbalanced with terror.