He was silent, and I could get no more out of him but idle generalities, but I read in his eyes, and face his approbation of my wish, the conformity of our desire.
A WORD IN SEASON
I was in a state of great excitement when I left him—a mixture of hope and anguish aroused by the ascendency of his words. They had been so clear and categorical, too. I could so vividly imagine the movement of salvation within our reach. The German right, harassed by a dizzy offensive, no doubt experiencing difficulties in the replenishment of supplies, after having lightly embarked on this broad movement of conversion—with us as a living menace on its flank, well supported by the camp (were our numbers large enough? That was the chief point), well rested and provided with ammunition ... what a lot of trumps we should hold in the advantage of taking them by surprise; the consciousness of the justice of our cause, the strength drawn from contact with our Mother City.
I was possessed with the idea that a decision was urgent. Was not this the day and the hour, even the minute, that historians would designate to all eternity as that in which our supreme chance of victory occurred?
My heart was beating madly. I tried in vain to calm myself by the usual reflections. I could so well picture the alternative being laid before the governor of Paris. Either to reserve his army in view of the probable siege, or else to hurl it into the furnace down to the last battalion.
It was a formidable initiative. The fate of the country in his hands! All my being was strained, almost to breaking point, towards the side of boldness. I would have given ten years of my life that this man's heart might be well tempered.
I walked feverishly through the streets wherever chance led me, looking for someone to talk to. I met De Valpic, but he was exhausted and was going to rest.