discussion with the Germans removed the opportunity of remedy.

But, apart from tactics, the French had a policy. Although Clemenceau
might curtly abandon the claims of a Klotz or a Loucheur, or close his
eyes with an air of fatigue when French interests were no longer
involved in the discussion, he knew which points were vital, and these
he abated little. In so far as the main economic lines of the Treaty
represent an intellectual idea, it is the idea of France and of
Clemenceau.

Clemenceau was by far the most eminent member of the Council of Four,
and he had taken the measure of his colleagues. He alone both had an
idea and had considered it in all its consequences. His age, his
character, his wit, and his appearance joined to give him objectivity
and a, defined outline in an environment of confusion. One could not
despise Clemenceau or dislike him, but only take a different view as to
the nature of civilized man, or indulge, at least, a different hope.

The figure and bearing of Clemenceau are universally familiar. At the
Council of Four he wore a square-tailed coat of very good, thick black
broadcloth, and on his hands, which were never uncovered, gray suede
gloves; his boots were of thick black leather, very good, but of a
country style, and sometimes fastened in front, curiously, by a buckle
instead of laces. His seat in the room in the President's house, where
the regular meetings of the Council of Four were held (as distinguished
from their private and unattended conferences in a smaller chamber
below), was on a square brocaded chair in the middle of the semicircle
facing the fireplace, with Signor Orlando on his left, the President
next by the fireplace, and the Prime Minister opposite on the other side
of the fireplace on his right. He carried no papers and no portfolio,