here we dined so cheerfully, grim despots
had crowded not so many years before to watch from its long windows
the executions of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette.

I was the only woman, a whim of Mr. Warren's, and possibly that is the
reason I found this dinner in the historic chamber above a dark and
quiet Paris the most interesting I ever attended! Perhaps it was
because I sat at the head of the room between Monsieur Reinach and
Monsieur Hanotaux; perhaps merely because of the evening's climax.

Of course we talked of nothing but the war (one is bored to death in
Paris if any other subject comes up). Only one speech was made, an
impassioned torrent of gratitude by Monsieur Hanotaux directed at our
distinguished host, an equally impassioned "Friend of France." I
forget just when it was that a rumor began to run around the room and
electrify the atmosphere that a great naval engagement had taken
place in the North Sea; but it was just after coffee was served that a
boy from the office of _Le Figaro_ entered with a proof-sheet for
Monsieur Reinach to correct--he contributes a daily column signed
"Polybe." Whether the messenger brought a note from the editor or
merely whispered his information, again I do not know, but it was
immediately after that Monsieur Reinach told us that news had come
through Switzerland of a great sea fight in which the Germans had lost
eight battleships.

"And as the news comes from Germany," he remarked dryly, "and as the
Germans admit having lost eight ships we may safely assume that they
have lost sixteen." And so it proved.

The following day in Paris was the gloomiest I have ever experienced
in any city, and was no doubt one of the gloomiest in history. Not a
word had come from England. Germany had claimed uncontradicted an
overwhelming victory, with the pride of Britain either at the bottom
of the North Sea or hiding like Churchill's rats in any hole that
would shelter them from further vengeance. People, both French and
American, who had so long been waiting for the Somme drive to commence
that they had almost relinquished hope went about shaking their heads
and muttering: "Won't the British even fight on the sea?"

I felt suicidal. Presupposing the continued omnipotence of the British
Navy, the Battle of the Marne had settled the fate of Germany, but if
that Navy had proved another illusion the bottom had fallen out of the
world. Not only would Europe be done for, but the United States