. . . My little mother, it is certain that though we did not leave yesterday, it is yet only a question of hours. I won't say to you anything that I have already said, content only that I have from you the approval of which I was certain. . . . In the very hard march yesterday only one man fell out, really ill. France will come out of this bad pass. I can only repeat to you how well I am prepared for all eventualities, and that nothing can undo our twenty-seven years of happiness. I am resolved not to consider myself foredoomed, and I fancy the joy of returning, but I am ready to go to the end of my strength. If you knew the shame I should endure to think that I might have done something more! In the midst of all this sadness we live through magnificent hours, when the things that used to be most strange take on an august significance. _September 4, 6 o'clock_ (_on the way, in the train_). We have had forty hours of a journey in which the picturesque outdoes even the extreme discomfort. The great problem is sleep, and the solution is not easy when there are forty in a cattle-truck. The train stops every instant, and we encounter the unhappy refugees. Then the wounded: fine spectacle of patriotism. The English army. The artillery. We no longer know anything, having no more papers, and we can't trust the rumours which fly among the distraught population. Splendid weather. _Saturday, September 5_ (_at the end of 60 hours in a cattle-truck: 40 men to a truck_). On the same day we skirted the Seine opposite the forest of Fontainebleau and the banks of the Loire. Saw the chateau de Blois and the chateau d'Amboise. Unhappily the darkness prevented us from seeing more. How can I tell you what tender emotions I felt by these magnificent banks of the Loire! Are you bombarded by the frightful aeroplanes? I think of you in such conditions and above all of poor Grandmother, who indeed had little need to see all this! However, we must hope. We learn from wounded refugees that in the first days of August mistakes were made in the high command which had terrible consequences. It falls to us now to repair those mistakes. Masses of English troops arrive. We have crossed numbers of crowded trains. Well, this war will not have been the mere march-past which many thought, but which I never thought, it would be; but it will have stirred the good in all humanity. I do not speak of the magnificent things which have no immediate connection with the war,--but nothing will be lost. _September 5, 1914_ (_1st halting-place, 66 hours in the cage without being able to stretch_). Still the same jolting and vibration, but three times after the horrible night there has come the glory of the morning, and all fatigue has disappeared.