The situation of France seemed critical, for the country had just gone through a series of internal storms. The labour question, that of income tax, and that of the three years' military service had raised sharp controversies; the Caillaux affair had revealed hidden sores in political life; the insane assassination of Jaurès, of which the reason was still unknown, gave rise to the blackest prognostications. Already on the 28th July, date of the declaration of war by Austria against Serbia, anxiety had become intense, but it was hoped that Russia would settle matters between the two countries, and that the trouble would remain local. On the 1st August, Germany declared war on Russia, and it became obvious that the storm was coming on apace. The aspect of life suddenly changed; a feeling of dread and expectancy unnerved everybody; mobilisation was mentioned; automobiles at full speed hurried along the roads; the harvest was hastily gathered.... We could no longer work, go for walks, or admire nature without a feeling of heavy anxiety. We went about like automatons, all our thoughts centred on one point--the threatening, inevitable war. Everything had put on a sinister aspect, and Nature herself joined in the general gloom; the weather became stormy, thunder rolled alarmingly, heavy clouds hurried and met in a gigantic struggle, evoking the image of other coming struggles. During the night of the 1st August the storm never ceased, we could not sleep; all night long, frenzied automobiles raced along the high road, sounding their lugubrious horns. In the middle of the night, we heard some one knocking at the doors of the police station opposite. What was happening? In the darkness, illumined by flashes of lightning, we saw horsemen with lanterns; they were messengers bringing the orders for mobilisation. It was proclaimed the next day. The population gathered at the _mairie_, a grave, silent crowd; the few words exchanged only concerned war and partings. Old men, who had lived through 1870, were low-spirited; young ones, on the contrary, were excited. We had to think of our return home, which might be difficult later. We went into the forest for the last time; the evening was mild and calm after the storm. The peace and beauty around us were such that we longed not to believe in the terrible reality. But we had to bid farewell to all that had charmed us. We went once again into the meadows near Norka. The hayricks were standing in rows, their soft, golden silhouettes harmoniously outlined against the hilly background purple with heather. We sat down on the mown grass. Suddenly, in the calm of the evening, bells began to sound. It was not the distant and poetic call for vespers, nor the sad sound of the passing bell, but the hard, sinister, ill-omened tocsin, warning the whole countryside, down to the most distant, most peaceful hamlets and to the wood-cutters in the forest, that mobilisation had commenced....