“Don’t you think both sides played up,” I asked, “at those Weimar suppers? She was under the charm of philosophers and musicians, and they under the charm of her wit and appreciation. I keep thinking how they all enjoyed it—and how those black eyes flashed under the heavy red-and-gold turban.” “Without doubt it was more than agreeable. I only complain that she was in a position to mislead succeeding generations, and did so. She seems to have had no _flair_, and because she got the personal enthusiasm, the hot striking of mind against mind, that was at once her gift and her delight, she glorifies a nation that later makes furious attempts to destroy hers.” I then remarked, but a bit warily: “Talking of centenaries, I have just had in my hands the discourse of Wagner on the centenary of Beethoven. It has fire.” “We won’t talk of Wagner, the mere memory of a phrase scorches one’s ear. Beethoven, yes, for all time, but we French can’t listen to Wagner now. He’s like a hot iron on seared flesh—or a rake in a wound. We want nothing more to do with the Lohengrins and the Tannhäusers and the Siegfrieds. I only wish they had been annihilated with their Walhalla.” “These beings, however, were potential in the German race. Madame de Staël got their projections, together with the metaphysics of Goethe and his contemporaries, and carried away with her the memory of a blue-eyed people lost in metaphysical dreams, passionately loving poetry and music.” “Yes, and presented them to us as an example of all the social virtues. Look at history,” said another officer, with a gesture toward the east. One _can_ talk of other things besides the booming of cannon, even in Lunéville—but not with complete pleasure. Then E. M. and I departed to take a _tournée_ about the country. But the Ford reposing in the Guérins’ garage was completely unresponsive; it might have been dead. It appears it hates cold weather. A dozen officers are billeted in the Guérins’ house; two of their orderlies and the butler tried to crank it. The only signs of life were in the handle, which from time to time flew round with extraordinary rapidity. We called out to one not-over-cautious soldier, “Be careful; you will break your arm.” He only answered: “If that happens I shall have two or three months of tranquillity.” And that’s how _he_ felt anent the breaking of his arm!