Left alone for a minute I considered the well-known furniture in a dazed way; the piano with the open score of Rigoletto, the arm-chairs in loose covers, the two big couches, the two greenish screens ... I sought a new aspect of it all; I childishly reminded myself that I must remember that the things were in a like state when war was declared.
My cousin, the doctor, a sturdy mountaineer, tall and highly coloured, came in and quietly held out his hand to me.
"Well, there we are!" he said.
I got nothing but a few concise particulars out of him; ever since the morning they had realised that things were going from bad to worse, the "Pontissalien" usually so guarded ended its leading article by a very clearly stated warning that we must be prepared for anything. Our frontier had been violated, communications cut off. Our custom-house officers at Petit-Croix had been shot at last night. Negotiations had continued, however. As a matter of fact the official telegram, which had arrived on the stroke of five o'clock contained only the seven words:
"Sunday. August 2nd.
First day of Mobilisation."
"What do you say to going to the Town Hall?" suggested the doctor.
I agreed, as meekly as one intoxicated. We went out. We had only a step or two to go.