A theatre party having been arranged, I decided to stop over in Paris. The play was _Georgette Lemeunier_ at the Comedie Francaise. The house was full--the audience chiefly composed of Americans and tourists, and throughout the entire piece even very significant allusions to current political events failed to arouse any unwonted enthusiasm on the part of the French contingent. Outside not even an _edition speciale de la Presse_ betokened the slightest uneasiness. The next day, that is, Tuesday, the 28th, I had a business meeting with my friends, Mr. Gautron and Mr. Pierre Mortier, editor of the _Gil Blas_. Mr. Gautron was on the minute, but Mr. Mortier kept us waiting over an hour and when finally we had despaired of his coming I heard someone hurrying across the court, and the bell was rung impatiently. Mr. Mortier rushed in, unannounced, very red, very excited, very apologetic. "A thousand pardons. I'm horribly late, but you'll forgive me when you hear the news. I've just come from the Foreign Office. All diplomatic relations with Germany are suspended. War will be declared Saturday!" Mr. Gautron and I looked at each other, then at Mr. Mortier, and smiled. "No, I'm not joking. I'm as serious as I have ever been in my life. The proof: on leaving the Foreign Office I went and had a neglected tooth filled, and on my way down, stopped at my shoemaker's and ordered a pair of good strong boots for Saturday morning. I'll be fit then to join my regiment." Our faces fell. "But why Saturday?" "Because Saturday's the first of August, and the idea of keeping the news back is to prevent a panic on the Bourse, and to let the July payments have time to be realized." "You don't really believe it's serious, do you?" "Yes, really. I'm not fooling, and if I've any advice to give you it's this: draw out all the money you can from your bank, and take all the gold they'll give you. You may need it. I've telephoned to the _Gil Blas_ for them to do as much for us. The worst of all though is, that every man on my paper is of an age bound to military service. War means that when I leave, staff, printers and all will have to go the same day and the _Gil Blas_ shuts its doors. We cease to exist--that's all." Somewhat disconcerted by this astonishing news, we had some little difficulty getting down to facts, but when we did business was speedily dispatched and Mr. Mortier took his leave. Mr. Gautron carried me off to luncheon. "You must come," he protested when I pleaded an engagement. "You must come, or my wife and the boys will never believe me." We found Madame Gautron and her two splendid sons waiting rather impatiently. We told our news. "Come, come now. You can't make us take that as an excuse!" We protested our sincerity, and went in to luncheon which began rather silently.