She was brooding
over the departure of her son, an officer, on the first day of the
mobilization. Marguerite, too, was uneasy about her brother and did not
think it expedient to come to the studio while her mother was grieving
at home. When was this situation ever to end? . . .
That check for four hundred thousand francs which he had brought from
America was also worrying him. The day before, the bank had declined to
pay it for lack of the customary official advice. Afterward they said
that they had received the advice, but did not give him the money. That
very afternoon, when the trust companies had closed their doors, the
government had already declared a moratorium, in order to prevent a
general bankruptcy due to the general panic. When would they pay him?
. . . Perhaps when the war which had not yet begun was ended--perhaps
never. He had no other money available except the two thousand francs
left over from his travelling expenses. All of his friends were in the
same distressing situation, unable to draw on the sums which they had in
the banks. Those who had any money were obliged to go from shop to shop,
or form in line at the bank doors, in order to get a bill changed. Oh,
this war! This stupid war!
In the Champs Elysees, they saw a man with a broad-brimmed hat who
was walking slowly ahead of them and talking to himself.
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