I saw him then, bowed down
with sorrow, distraught, indifferent to all else, both the weightiest
personal interests and the very triumph of the cause he had championed;
and this because his pet dog had pined away for him, and was beyond all
possibility of succour. It was of course a passing weakness with him;
such weakness as may fall upon a man of kindly heart. In Zola's case it
came, however, almost like a last blow amidst the sorrow and loneliness
of the exile which he was enduring in silence for the sake of his
much-loved country.

VI

STILL AT OATLANDS

For a time, at all events, Messrs. Zola and Desmoulin found themselves in
fairly pleasant quarters; they could stroll about the gardens at Oatlands
or along the umbrageous roads of Walton, or beside the pretty reaches of
the Thames, amidst all desirable quietude. After all his worries the
master needed complete mental rest, and he laughed at his friend's
repeated appeals for newspapers.

At that period I procured a few French journals every time I went to town
and posted them to Oatlands, where they were eagerly conned by M.
Desmoulin, on whom the Dreyfus fever was as strong as ever. But M. Zola
during the first fortnight of his exile did not once cast eyes upon a
newspaper, and the only information he obtained respecting passing events
was such as Desmoulin or myself imparted to him. And in this he evinced
little interest. Half of it, he said, was absolutely untrue, and the
other half was of no importance. There is certainly much force and truth
in this curtly-worded opinion as applied to the contents of certain Paris
journals.

However, communications were now being opened up between the master and
his Paris friends, and every few days Wareham or myself had occasion to
go to Oatlands. There were sundry false alarms, too, through strangers
calling at Wareham's office, and now and again my sudden appearance at
the hotel threw Messrs. Zola and Desmoulin into anxiety. In other
respects their life was quiet enough. The people staying at Oatlands
were, on the whole, a much less inquisitive class than those whom one had
found at the Grosvenor. There were various honeymoon-making couples, who
were far too busy feasting their eyes on one another to pay much
attention to two French artists. Then, also, the family people gave time
to the superintendence of their sons and daughters; whilst the old folks
only