Three days after, we were on our journey to Paris. I had taken the Swiss route, for in those days it was the safest way to escape the obstacles and annoyances which on the road through Germany were thrown in the way of travellers to France. War was, so to speak, floating in the air, and was each moment expected to break upon the two leading nations of the Continent. At such a time the railroad termini are naturally the centres of exciting scenes and noisy demonstrations; but the Swiss republic was neutral, and the southern part of France was quiet. So we arrived in Paris unmolested; and the great crowds in the boulevards, and the multitude of detectives among the people, gave us the first notion that something extraordinary was occurring.
At first the demonstrations were all in favour of peace. Labourers in blue blouses were marching up in compact masses on the Place de la Concorde, carrying white flags and signs with the inscriptions "_À bas la guerre_" and "_Vive la paix_!" Public speakers delivered long orations on the horrors of war, and protested against the ambitious, fame-hunting tyrants who drove their innocent, peace-loving subjects into bloody combats to feed their own greed for glory and power. But their speeches were all blown to the winds. Bellona is a fair woman, and the more she is slandered to her admirers the more ardent and impassioned is their love for her. In vain did the orators protest that France was all for peace, and would not be dragged into the perils of war. The soil was thirsting for blood, and the day after our arrival in Paris the declaration of war which Napoleon had issued against Prussia was publicly announced.
I had been informed of these events long before they happened, and on them my whole scheme was built. When the public enthusiasm was highest, and the shouts "_À Berlin_!" loudest, when throngs of people crowded through the streets, singing the "_Marseillaise_" and "_Le Départ_," I mingled with them, bent on business.
During our journey I had shown my wife all those polite little attentions which are due to a bride on her wedding tour from her husband. Now I was looking for a residence for her. I found a handsome, palatial-looking house, exquisitely furnished, which had been hastily abandoned by a German diplomat at the first rumour of the war, and was now in the market, with its carriages and horses, servants, and everything. The bargain was made, and, as I took my wife to her temporary home, she seemed to be struck with the delicate consideration which I showed her. I saw by her face that she wished to protest against this excess of luxury, which was not in keeping with our means. But perhaps something in the expression of my face warned her to be silent; perhaps it occurred to her that as she had given me full power to do what I pleased with her dowry, I had acquired the right to squander it--if it suited my whims--on herself.