Philippe felt the disaster in a way that was, so to speak, visible and palpable, during these hours in which each of his victims remained locked up, as though in a torture-chamber. Nothing could have distracted his mind from its obsession, and even the fear of that accursed war which he had not been able to avert.
And yet news reached him at every moment, threatening news, like the news of a plague that comes nearer and nearer, despite the distance, despite the intervening waters.
At lunch-time, it was Victor, who had hardly entered the room with Philippe's tray before he exclaimed:
"Have you heard of the telegram from England, sir? The British premier has declared in parliament that, if war came, he would land a hundred thousand men at Brest and Cherbourg. That means an open alliance."
Later on, he heard the gardener's son, Henriot, returning on his bicycle from Saint-Élophe, shouting to his father and Victor:
"There's a mutiny at Strasburg! They're barricading the streets! They've blown up one of the barracks!"
And Victor at once telephoned to the Éclaireur des Vosges, pretending that he was doing so on behalf of M. Morestal, and came running up to Philippe's room:
"M. Philippe, Strasburg is in a state of insurrection.... All the peasants of the country around have taken up arms."
And Philippe reflected that there was no hope, that the governments would have their hands forced. And he reflected upon it almost calmly. His part was played. Nothing interested him now but his personal sorrow, the health of his father, the sufferings of Marthe and Suzanne, those first victims of the hateful scourge.
At five o'clock, he heard that one of the countries had issued an ultimatum against the other. Which of the two countries? And what was the purport of the ultimatum? He was unable to learn.