"Yes, I know the place looks queer, but you see all our clerks are young men and everyone of them has been obliged to join his regiment since closing time last evening!"
"Leave farming alone and come over to Conard's. He's bound to have some news," said H. impatiently.
Conard's is a big publishing firm on the boulevard, renowned as a meeting place for most of the well-known political men.
Conard greeted us in silence. He knew no more than we, and we fell to talking of the latest events and trying to come to a conclusion. Then one of the habitués stepped in.
"Eh bien, Monsieur, what news?"
The person addressed kept on perusing the titles of the books spread along the counter, and drawing a long puff from his cigarette and without lifting his eyes, said, "The mobilization is for four o'clock! Official. Have you something entertaining to read on my way to the front?"
"What?"
"Yes, gentlemen."
"War?"'
"It looks very much like it!"