"Wheren't people furious?" I questioned, when afterwards they told me of
their adventure.

"Not in the slightest. Everyone bore it patiently as part of his
tribute to his country. 'The army first' was their motto."

The first batch of mail brought me any number of stale letters, which
had arrived and been held in Paris over three weeks. Invitations to a
house party in Belgium and things of that kind that seemed so strangely
out of place now. The two most important documents, however, came, one
from my cousin, Marie Huard (Superior at the Convent of the Infant Jesus
at Madrid) and the other from Elizabeth Gauthier.

My cousin had taken upon herself to locate and communicate with every
member of the Huard family called to arms (and they are numerous, when
one considers that H. has no less than twelve married uncles!) and she
enclosed me a sort of map, or family tree, indicating the names, ages,
regiments, etc., of some fifty cousins, begging me to write and
encourage them from time to time.

Elizabeth Gauthier's letter bore a black border--and I trembled as I
opened it. She was in Paris alone, and mourning the loss of her eldest
brother, killed at the battle of Mulhouse, the ninth of August. Her
solitude preyed upon her, and she announced her departure for her
sister's chateau in Burgundy.

That was the first real sadness that the war had brought me so far. It
quite upset me, for Jean Bernard was not only a delightful friend, but
one of the most promising engineers of the younger generation in France.
Both family, friends and country might well deplore such a loss.