“I do not admit,” says Count Rochechouart, “that seven officers condemned a comrade without being certain of their position.”
The Mayor: “Other people, not knowing the circumstances, have no right to express an opinion.”
The Nautical President: “A dozen bullets ought to have been sent through his body.”
Rochechouart: “I belong to only one league—it is impossible to be of another—Déroulède’s.”
The Brutal Man: “Obviously; I should like to see you being anything else.”
So these are my fellow-banqueters before a lecture on peace!
The lecture fell very flat. The hall was pretty empty. No enthusiasm. I have not often made such a miserable speech. After the lecture, which ended about four o’clock in the afternoon, we took a walk through the wonderful city of gardens.
In Nice we were rejoiced by a call which brought back sweet recollections of the beautiful days in the Caucasus. I read in the local newspaper that Prince Lucien Murat and his wife, born Princesse de Rohan, had come to make a visit to the Empress Eugénie in neighboring Cimièz. I immediately wrote a note to my former little German pupil to tell him that we were near at hand. The next day the young couple came to see us. One cloud only darkened the delight of the reunion, namely, the tragic death of Prince Achille Murat, Lucien’s father. The incident was not mentioned.
On our return to Harmannsdorf our days were filled with preparations for the journey to The Hague; I wrote numerous articles and sent letters to all points of the compass. I had buried myself in Bloch’s great work and had written him about it. In reply I received the following letter:
Warsaw, April 8, 1899