Another storm broke out in the night. Again the rolling of the thunder shook our nerves and seemed like the echo of distant battles; again mysterious automobiles and horsemen raced along the road, and everything, every sound, every shadow seemed sinister. We did not feel any fear, but a kind of insupportable nervous tension. Later, when we were much nearer real danger, we did not experience this electric, almost morbid feeling. The next day, Germany had declared war on France. It was only with much difficulty that we found a carriage to take us to the station. On the road we were constantly being passed by various vehicles, crowded with soldiers and young men going off. The little station was full of people, the train also. Moved and excited, the people shouted, "Vive la France!" and sent friendly salutes to unknown soldiers in the train. Women, seeing their men off, were trying to be gay; they encouraged the departing ones, and only wept after they were gone. The general impression, both moral and material, was excellent; every one seemed equal to his task, conscious of his duty, and desirous of fulfilling it well. The mobilisation seemed well organised, everything was being accomplished without any flurry or bustle, even the trains were almost punctual. All small personal interests and party quarrels which had latterly poisoned life now suddenly disappeared; everywhere the desire to be useful was noticeable; people became better, there was more sympathy, more solidarity; the distance between classes seemed to decrease, the common trial made all equal. There was beauty in that moment, for it showed that the greatest of evils might yet exalt and purify the human soul. CHAPTER XXXV Return to Paris--The deserted Institute--Memoir on the Founders of Modern Medicine--Metchnikoff's Jubilee--Last holidays at Norka. This was but the beginning of the war; soon it spread with vertiginous rapidity, and made its cruel destructive force felt. On our return from Norka, we found everything on a war footing. The very next morning, Metchnikoff hurried to the laboratory. He only reached Paris with some difficulty, all means of communication being encumbered by soldiers. He had left the house nervous and excited but full of courage and energy. I shall never forget his return home.... I was awaiting him as usual, just outside the station, and, as he got out of the train, I did not recognise him. I saw a stooping old man, bent as under a heavy burden; his usual vivacity was gone, and had given place to the deepest depression.