“Yes.”
“Be so kind as to enlighten me. I would like to know whether it is prudent to go to Paris at present.”
“Monsieur, it is very imprudent, but you should go,” was my reply.
We entered France at 4 o’clock.
At Tergnier, at 6.30, we dined upon a piece of bread, a little cheese, a pear and a glass of wine. Claretie insisted upon paying, and said: “I want particularly to give you a dinner on the day of your return to France.”
En route I saw in the woods a camp of French soldiers, men and horses mingled. I shouted to them: “Long live the army!” and I wept.
At frequent intervals we came across train-loads of soldiers on their way to Paris. Twenty-five of these passed during the day. As one of them went by we gave to the soldiers all the provisions we had, some bread, fruit and wine. The sun shone brightly and was succeeded by a bright moon.
We arrived in Paris at 9.35 o’clock. An immense crowd awaited me. It was an indescribable welcome. I spoke four times, once from the balcony of a café and thrice from my carriage.
When I took leave of this ever-growing crowd, which escorted me to Paul Meurice’s, in the Avenue Frochot, I said to the people: “In one hour you repay me for twenty years of exile.”
They sang the “Marseillaise” and the “Chant du Depart.”