I went down to give the hall-porter orders to wake me at five o'clock, he was to have my bill ready, and I should expect a cab to be there for my luggage. In crossing the lounge I came upon the three Englishmen who were leaving the card-room. We had never exchanged a word, or a nod; I thought them ignorant of our language. I was going straight past them, when the one who was walking in front, a big, fair man, who looked an athlete in his smoking-jacket, stopped right in front of me. "Good luck to your country, sir," he said. "Thank you." I mechanically held out my hand, which he shook hard. His two companions did likewise. I went upstairs again, feeling rather touched. Up there my scepticism got the upper hand again. I thought. Will they stick to us, I wonder. An amusing idea occurred to me, of sending a post-card to the little Landry girl to tell her of the incident. I took up a pen, but while doing so it struck me that the girl would not see anything very funny about it. Sentimentalise ... no thanks! I scrawled a few lines for her without mentioning the occurrence. _BOOK II_ _August 2nd-3rd_ CHAPTER VI I GO BACK BY TRAIN It is easy to imagine the influx of Frenchmen, hurrying in from ten miles round, at Vallorbes station that morning, the second of August; the procession of omnibuses, the piles of trunks, the pack of distracted families overrunning the waiting-rooms, crowding round the ticket offices, demanding directions and details which no one could possibly have given them. The express, which turned up at the usual time, was taken by storm. When would it get to Paris? They would guarantee nothing as to that. I had the luck to find myself a place as eighth in a second-class carriage. Opposite me two old maids never stopped talking, in a whisper, probably about everything on earth but the news of the day. A _bourgeois_ couple with a crew of sulky children argued for hours about opening the windows. There was a minute inspection of the baggage at the Pontarlier custom-house. Nothing occurred. We got back into the train. The speed was fast until Dôle; there we slowed down noticeably. There was a long stop at Dijon. The station already seemed to be under military occupation. Very few civilians on the platforms, but behind the gates, the murmur of a crowd come for news, kept back by sentries with fixed bayonets. The news-seller, despoiled of her wares, was hawking round nothing but some illustrated comic and sporting papers; I bought two or three from her, but did not read them. We left Dijon towards eleven o'clock. From there onwards, mad rushes, sudden stoppages, and breathless progress, alternated. Laroche at last.