"Yes, but before that what did he say to you--when you looked so serious? There is going to be war, isn't there?" He pursed up his mouth, which is a familiar trick of his when he wishes to hide something from me. "My dear Mother, you think everything points to war. It is quite possible that there will be war, in fact it's almost certain, but as long as they are not actually on the frontier and it is not declared, don't take such a jaundiced view of things, for goodness' sake. B. asks me to go to Douai to make some trial flights, that's all. I gave up flying because there were no openings for civilians, and I had met with endless disappointments and mortifications at the hands of those who should have helped and encouraged me. Now these same people have sent for me; my country needs me, I'm going into the Flying Corps, and I'm off. Cheer up! be pleased about it. I am so pleased to be going to be a bird again! Pack up my things, because I must be at Douai by three o'clock to-morrow. And don't worry--the English and the Russians are in with us. What a lark!" And I thought: Alas! a poor sort of lark. III--TO-MORROW--WAR WILL BE DECLARED _July._--Paul has gone, and I had scarcely time to dry my eyes when I received his call to the colors, ordering him to go to Belfort as a member of the Flying Corps. * * * * * And I thought of Drumont, whom I had left at Les Sablons and was to have rejoined that evening. Could I leave him alone any longer? What a torture it was to be divided between one's husband and one's child! The telephone-bell rang. It was a friend ringing up from Paris who said: "Go off at once to join your husband. To-morrow war will be declared...." I was in despair and did not know what to do. I felt that my son might arrive at any minute, and that I might have gone and not be there to say good-bye to him. And this time I should be leaving Paris for good and all. To have to leave Paris, the center of everything, and not to see Paul again because duty calls me back to the country--my God, how cruel it is! The car will take me back to Les Sablons to-night. IV--VISION OF A FRENCH WOMAN'S HEART _August._--The mobilization order came out yesterday, just as I was leaving Paris to join D. at Les Sablons. The sight of the excitement in the villages, the women in tears standing spellbound before the tricolor notices, the mobilized men trudging off with their knapsacks and any sort of uniform, and young fellows singing the Marseillaise, upset me terribly. On this scene of desolation the sun shone gloriously, indifferent to the troubles of earth, and his rays even penetrated into the car and reached me as I sat huddled up in the corner, crying bitterly. * * * * *