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Updated: June 10, 2025
All the way was haunted by the tragedy of trees, not only the tragedy of orchards, and of the roadside giants that once had shaded the straight avenues, but the martyrdom of trees in the great dark forests oaks and elms and beeches. At first glance these woods, France's shield against her enemies rose still and beautiful, like mystic abodes of peace, against the pale horizon.
There she took a book from the table, and sank into a deep easy-chair, and began to turn the pages. But when, by and by, approaching footsteps became audible in the stone-floored corridor without, Beatrice hastily shut the book, thrust it back upon the table, and caught up another so that Emilia Manfredi, entering, found her reading Monsieur Anatole France's "Etui de nacre."
"That, young sir, is no slight mission," said the elder man, "and it is our good fortune to speed you on your way. My friend is the Chevalier François de Jumonville, one of France's most gallant officers, and I am Auguste de Courcelles, a colonel by fortune's favor, in the service of His Majesty, King Louis."
We might have supposed that France's farther adventure into the West would have been from the Mississippi up its great tributary the Missouri, which flows eastward from the eternal snows of the Rocky Mountains. Always, however, the uncertain temper of the many Indian tribes in this region made the advance difficult.
As a man, he is simple and France admires simplicity; he is elegant and France loves the elegance that is the expression of fine thinking, fine feeling; he is modest of his own attainments, and proud of France's glory. For nearly every great commander, victory in arms has led to power in the state. Foch is a statesman as preëminently as he is a warrior.
His first letters after the murder had been good, but by the following ones England seemed to wish to put her foot on France's throat, in order to compel her to sue for an alliance.
On top of the set of home-made shelves that served for his music and his books was a sort of still-life composed of a meerschaum pipe with a broken stem and an empty goblet of pressed glass, standing upon a yellow paper-covered copy of Anatole France's Thais, that had been just like that the last time she was here. She had stuck a bunch of sweet peas she was wearing into that goblet.
At Chalons-sur-Marne the French fought for twenty-four hours and inflicted heavy losses on the enemy. General Exelmans, one of France's most brilliant cavalry leaders, was dangerously wounded in leading a charge.
That was the principal weapon with which he had striven to parry the thrusts of M. Clemenceau and the touchstone by which he tested the sincerity of all professions of faith in his cherished project of compacting the nations of the world in a vast league of peace-loving, law-abiding communities. But the faith of France's leaders differed little from unbelief.
From one end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold all the ancient trails.
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