[Illustration: GENERAL FOCH "The Man of the Marne and the Yser"] A buzzer sounded and an orderly bounded in from the veranda, threw open the door marked with the white writing page, turned to us, saying, "_Entrez, Messieurs_." We entered a large room with many windows, all hung with dainty white lace. Despite the gloomy day the room seemed sunny, for there were at least a dozen vases filled with yellow flowers. Between two dormer windows opening upon a garden was stretched a great yellow map, dotted with lines and stuck all over with tiny tricolored flags. Before this map and studying it closely, with his back half turned toward us, stood a little man. A thick stump of unlighted cigar was between his teeth. His shoulders were thrown back, his hands clutched tightly behind him. He wore the full uniform of a general, with long cavalry boots and spurs. At the sound of our entrance, he swung about dramatically, on one heel. We caught sight of the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor blazing on his breast. He wore no other decorations, and I noted the absence of a sword. The light fell full upon his handsome, but ravaged and aging face. The memory of all that I had heard about him raced across my mind in the short time before I felt him seize my hand, saw his blue eyes boring into mine, heard him asking questions and stating facts directly to me. For this was the man who sent the famous message to General Joffre at the critical moment of the battle of the Marne, that inasmuch as his left was crushed and his right thrown back, he proposed to attack with his center. This was the man who later stemmed the German tide at the Yser, and saved Calais and the Channel ports. This was the man who has ever since commanded the Group of Armies of the North, Belgian, English and French, driving the enemy inch by inch through the Labyrinth and out of Artois. This man, the dashing _beau ideal_ of the French army, the great strategist of the École de Guerre, the nearest of all Frenchmen to approach the "man on horseback" picture of the military hero, this man who was talking to me, and frankly telling me of important things was General Foch. I found myself answering his questions mechanically. I told him the name of the paper that I represented, also that this was my third visit to the battle front in Artois. "Ah, yes. I know your paper," he said. "I read it. It has been one of the great forums for the discussion of the war. You have printed both sides of the question." "But we are in favor of the Allies!" I interrupted. "I know that also--that is why you have come a third time to Artois." The next correspondent in the line was a Spaniard. Foch eyed him for a moment. "I know you," he said. "I met you in Madrid six years ago." The correspondent bowed with amazement at the general's memory. He passed along the line, shaking hands. He stopped before a tall Dutchman, the representative of a paper in Amsterdam.