Little by little the train filled up. It stopped at every station, and
at every station men got aboard. They came in gayly and confidently,
bidding farewell to the women who had accompanied them and who stayed
behind the gate to do their weeping. Everybody was mixed in together
in the compartments without any distinctions of rank, station, class
or anything else. At Argentan I saw some rough Norman farmers enter
the coaches, talking with the same good natured calmness as if they
were going away on a business trip. One expression was repeated again
and again:

"If we've got to go, we've got to go."

One farmer said:

"They are looking after our good. I shall fight until I fall."

The spirit of the whole French people spoke from these mouths. You
felt the firm purpose of the nation come out of the very earth.

The country side presented an unwonted appearance. I remember vividly
the view the broad plains of Beauce offered. They looked as if they
were dead or fallen into a lethargy. Their life had come to an abrupt
end on Saturday, the first of August, at four o'clock in the
afternoon. We saw mounds of grain that had been cut and was still
scattered on the ground, with the scythe glistening nearby. We saw
pitchforks resting alongside the hay they had just finished tossing.
We saw sheaves lying on the ground with no one to take them away. The
very villages were deserted; not a human being appeared in them. You
would have said that this train that was passing through in the wake
of hundreds of other trains had blotted out all the inhabitants of the