People are camped out about the stations; all the streets are full of them, waiting to get places in the line before the ticket windows.
Foulques came to dine. It is his last night. He goes out to-morrow. He was very quiet. I have never seen him quiet like that before. Last night, down in the country, he had got through with all the good-byes—Claire, and his home, and the little son; I suppose there was nothing left for him to feel.
Old Madame Boudet has a letter from her son, who went on Tuesday. She is very happy because he says his next letter will be from Berlin. She is a little anxious because he speaks no German. Father Boudet forgets that he is socialist and anti-militarist, because he is so proud that his son should be a soldier of France. His shirt-sleeves are no longer symbolic, they mean just that, for thinking of the hero, he has no time to think of his coat.
Sunday, August 9th
Mimi's birthday: cake with six candles, and the little girl from upstairs come with her Miss to tea.
Monday, August 10th
There is a sort of dreadful comfort in knowing that their going off is over.
They are gone.