level crossings, the eyes of the women who looked at us were more sad
and profound. They fixed themselves upon ours, and seemed to speak to
us. And even when their lips did not move their eyes still said "Good
luck!... Good luck!"

We saw motor cars rushing along the roads, and could distinguish the
armbands on the men's sleeves, and rifles in the cars or lying in the
hoods. And yet daily life was going on as usual. There were workers in
the fields, tradespeople on the doorsteps of their shops, groups of
peasants just outside the hamlets. But yet a peculiar state of mind
was evident in each one of these people who were going on with their
daily work. And all these accumulated cares, all these stirred
imaginations, produced a strange atmosphere which infected everything,
seemed to impregnate the air we breathed, and quenched the gaiety of
the men in our train. Wattrelot and I were overcome by a kind of
religious emotion; we felt as though we were already breathing the air
of battle.

At about six o'clock we arrived at the station of L., where the train
stopped for a few minutes. The platforms were crowded with Staff
officers. A soldier assured me that the chief Headquarters were here.
I wanted to question some one and try to get some authoritative
information as to what was happening at the Front. It seemed to me
that I had a right to know, now that I was on the point of becoming
one of the actors in the tragedy in progress a few leagues off. But
directly I came up to these officers I felt my assurance fail me. They
looked disturbed and anxious. There was none of that merry animation
that had reigned in the interior and that I had expected to find
everywhere.