a single customer--not a single clerk to be seen. The long stretches of
floor and counters were vacant as though the store were closed. I
gasped a little in surprise and just as I did so a female voice from
behind a distant desk called out:

"What is your pleasure, Madame?"

I turned, and a little woman in black advanced towards me.

"Yes, I know the place looks queer, but you see all our clerks are young
men and everyone of them has been obliged to join his regiment since
closing time last evening!"

"Leave farming alone and come over to Conard's. He's bound to have some
news," said H. impatiently.

Conard's is a big publishing firm on the boulevard, renowned as a
meeting place for most of the well-known political men.

Conard greeted us in silence. He knew no more than we, and we fell to
talking of the latest events and trying to come to a conclusion. Then
one of the _habitués_ stepped in.

"_Eh bien, Monsieur_, what news?"

The person addressed kept on perusing the titles of the books spread
along the counter, and drawing a long puff from his cigarette and
without lifting his eyes, said, "The mobilization is for four o'clock!
Official. Have you something entertaining to read on my way to the
front?"