The Paris papers came regularly; several editions every day, but we were no longer so ravenous for this type of nourishment. When once the period of anxiety concerning Belgium's resistance and the intervention of England was over, we almost lost interest in the rest, yes, even in the first engagements in Lorraine, where our men won such a glorious name for themselves. We felt that nothing of importance would take place for ten days or a fortnight. Our chief anxiety was to know what they would do with us. The general opinion was that we would be in the second line (Reservists. The idea!), that we would only look on from afar at the first terrible encounters.... When the regulars were put out of action, yes, then it would be our turn to take the field. But it was quite possible that the war would already be well advanced. What day should we leave? And what would our destination be? Outlandish rumours were in circulation. They were hailed with a smile, and passed on in fun, but we ended by believing them. What did we know about it? The "tips" always came from such high-placed officials, generals, or station-masters. One persistent rumour was that we were to be sent to Le Havre, and from there shipped ... to what port do you think? You'd never guess, however long you went on trying! To Bremen! A landing party! Heavens, we stopped at nothing, with the British fleet behind us! According to another version we were to form part of a reserve force concentrated at Goëtquidam Brittany! The drawback was that we ran the risk of not seeing anything! Morale! What a strange factor it is in deciding the fate of nations! I failed to take it into account now. This uncertainty weighed on me. I sounded my companions. "Look here, how do you think things are going ... all right?" "What!" My question astounded them. On looking back it seems to me obvious that an insane optimism held sway. What could the Central Powers do against this gigantic coalition. The Kaiser had lost his head! Driven by the "junker" party, he was risking his all in a fit of despair. How long would it go on for? The figure quoted was three months. Three months, I said to myself: three months! Fate might decide that our army corps, our regiment, was not to be engaged more than once or twice.... There would be some rough knocks to put up with! But what of that? Lots would come through! For those who did it would be curiously interesting to look on at the reconstruction of the world which would follow.... Would life be any the better for it? Yes. In what way? I did not know. But I was firmly convinced of it. In Guillaumin I had a surprising source of high spirits and enthusiasm. He lived in a state of exaltation. He was the only one to read between the lines, in the daily reports, endless sensational pieces of news, extraordinarily favourable to us, withheld, he said, through an excess of modesty. "They're afraid the public might lose their heads." If I pretended to be alarmed: