I had had time, in two hours, to notice how scarce the yellow metal was. Forgues raised his hands: That was impossible, quite impossible! I wouldn't get it anywhere! Nobody would part with it! I persisted. He was a good sort at the bottom! Was it my (unique!!!) position as a man about to be mobilised, which melted him? He ended by handing over fifteen louis to me. I thanked him warmly and we shook hands. "And mind you don't get killed!" He spoke of it lightly. My gratitude ceased promptly. I suddenly bore him a desperate grudge for having coolly evaded the great blood tax. I put in an hour, dawdling about. I bought an evening paper. There was nothing startling in it unless it was M. de Schoen's last visit to the Quai d'Orsay, but not even the most inveterate optimists could any longer suggest that there was the faintest glimmer of hope. One article signed "A Military Attaché" interested me. It was a study on the probable forced attack, dear to the German heart, through Belgium, towards the source of the Oise. It explained how the enemy, if successful in getting so far, would be only ten days' march from Paris. I walked on absent-mindedly, crumpling the paper in my hand. Ten days' march. It looked rather as if they were preparing the public for what was to come! We had so little protection, it was true, against the danger which threatened to swoop down upon us from the North. Was the City destined, a few weeks hence, to undergo the horrors and humiliation of a new siege? How quickly my mind was overwhelmed by baleful visions born of the Fatal Year. I pulled myself up. Steady on! We were only just beginning. Never mind! The resemblance between yesterday and to-day obtruded itself upon my mind. A comparison which ought to have been all in favour of the present. There had been no lack of speeches and articles extolling the revival of our energies for some years past. Was it real or imaginary? What an opportunity it was to audit that? Not in connection with myself. I deliberately set myself aside. But in the great bulk of people; it was on them that our fate hung. Well, I was only partially reassured on this point. I think I should have preferred to see a tide of humanity sweeping along the avenues as in July of the year '70; to a rasping accompaniment of "Berlin!! To Berlin!" Cheek, of course, but heroic cheek, and proof of the warmness of their hearts.