"Voila," he shouted, waving the sheet he held in my face. "Voila, une clique des fous. Les scelerats; les imbecilles abominables; traitres; Dogs of Perdition. See, they intend to risk all on a single cast of the die and then—C'est assez à faire un homme honnête—with his head on his shoulders—créver avec desespoir, with madness. Alfred Lupin, what do you suppose? The Allies and the Boches and their forces have agreed upon tomorrow as a day of final quittance. There is to be one huge battle, un conflit superbe and then—Quoi? Give up—la FIN. C'est a dire une massacre insupportable, unheard of, monstrous, irreparable, and then—Ah, le Diable pourquoi existe je?—la renvoi à jour fixe. Can you believe such a suicide of the nation, such a shameless cowardice, such insanity, such depravity of ideas? And they make of it a circus, une parade macaronique, and of the nation un jouet. Is it not most damnable? Eh?"
Stunned by this unexpected outburst I retreated a step, and following me with the offending paper he continued his onslaught.
"Have you not heard? The Generals, the Kings, the Princes, the Diplomats, the Soldiers, have all agreed upon one infernal exterminating duel, and with that over no matter who wins, they throw down their arms and make peace. And here—HERE—" he shouted, still pursuing me backward into the hall-way, while behind me gathered Hortense, Julie, and even Gabrielle in appalled curiosity—"here they proclaim it to their peoples, and bid them gather at the carnage, Une spectacle magnifique assurement—the death of the nations. What poison of insanity, of miserable, hopeless, brutal, depraved idiocy, possesses our men? Has the whole world become a drivelling fool, une bête écervelé?"
He was still holding out towards me the paper, and in despair over his exasperation, I seized it, and rushed with it to the light, while Privat Deschat rushed with me, and the little circle of auditors closed about us in amazement. I saw at once the cause of Deschat's disgust. The sheet he had brought to us was a broadside—une bordée—which evidently was intended for circulation throughout the country, and had been posted over the walls of the cities, where what I knew, was frankly announced—the umpirage, the arbitrament in one last conflict of the undecided war. It read.
PROCLAMATION
PEACE COMES WITH VICTORY. ONE BATTLE MORE. THEN IT IS ALL OVER. ON —— THE BATTLE BEGINS. THAT ENDS THE WAR. LET THE NATIONS GATHER. THE TOURNAMENT OF CIVILIZATION IS AT HAND. SUCH IS THE DECISION OF THE RULERS, AFTER THAT INDUSTRY, REST. PRAY FOR US, AND COME AND SEE.
L'ADMINISTRATION.
"Yes," mocked Deschat, "l'es boutiquiers are selling seats for it now in Paris, in Berlin, in London. Mon Dieu je vais à me mettre au cercueil." With that admonishment he vanished from the house.
I turned to Gabrielle.
"Gabrielle, it is enough. It is the writing on the wall. GOD COMES. He has truly turned the heads of the nations. It is again the words of the prophet Jeremiah:
"'Yes, the stork in the heavens knoweth her appointed times; and the turtle and the crane and the swallow, observe the time of their coming; but my people know not the judgment of the Lord.'
"We need no further assurance, Gabrielle. It will be as the spirit of Sebastien Quintado said. LET US GO AT ONCE."