Foreign Affairs, protested against the statements of this
extraordinary declaration. No French aviator had flown over Belgium;
no French aviator had come near Wesel; no French aviator had flown in
the direction of Eifel; nor had hurled bombs on the railroad near
Carlsruhe or Nuremberg. And less than two years later a German, Dr.
Schwalbe, the Burgomaster of Nuremberg, confirmed M. Viviani's
indignant denial of the German accusations:

"It is false," wrote Dr. Schwalbe in the _Deutsche Medizinische
Wochenschrift_, "that French aviators dropped bombs on the railway at
Nuremberg. The general of the third Bavarian army corps, which was
stationed in the vicinity, assured me that he knew nothing of the
attempt except from the newspapers...."

But a blow had just been struck that announced the rising of the
curtain on the most frightful tragedy the universe has ever known.
This announcement was contained in the brief, plain words of the
declaration of war.

De Schoen left the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where he had been
courteously received for many years, and made his way out. He was
escorted by M. Philippe Berthelot, who was at the time _directeur
politique_ at the Quai d'Orsay. As he was going out of the door, de
Schoen pointed to the city, which, with its trees, its houses, and its
monuments, could be seen clearly on the other side of the Seine.

"Poor Paris," he exclaimed, "what will happen to her?"

At the same time he offered his hand to M. Berthelot, but the latter
contented himself with a silent bow, as if he had neither seen the