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TO SEDAN 139
alive—a worthy and kindly woman, with a cheerful and
philosophical view of life, in spite of the harrowing scenes
which she has witnessed around her abode. The only thing
that annoyed her was that two rifle bullets had gone through
her windows and lodged in the ceiling. But she gave us a
regular lecture on that momentous day, forty-four years ago,
and recalled each detail. The Emperor had been friendly and
condescending, Bismarck cheerful and jocular, when they had
talked to her. And when the interview was over, and both of
them went their way, the Emperor had given her four 20-
franc pieces, which she still kept, set in a frame under glass,
with the following inscription : Donne par sa Majesté I’Em-
pereur Napoleon III d Mme. Fournaise le 2 Septemhre, 1870.
As a memento of our visit we shall keep the stamp which
she imprinted on our note-books : Maison de la I’’^ entrevue,
Donchery. And the house itself is known as Maison du
Tisserand, or " The weaver’s house."
At last we return by another road to Sedan, in order to
cast a brief glance over the site of the forts which have been
razed since 1870, and to enjoy the fine view over the un-
fortunate town from the surrounding heights. One cannot
feel cheerful in Sedan ; one feels as if one’s breast were op-
pressed by a leaden weight. Here is a people, generous and
yet thrifty, which has suffered and is now suffering—which,
in the leading strings of the republican democracy, has been
led to an abyss of misfortunes—a people which has deserved
a better fate than to bleed to death for the sake of its allies
—
a people whose children vainly repeat those high-sounding,
but in reality empty and hollow words : Liberie, Egalité,
Fraternité. What brotherhood is it that never thinks of any-
thing but revenge ; what equality is it that for political aims
sacrifices the fruits of the people’s thrift ; what liberty is it
that drives these same people into the arms of the world’s
most despotically governed power ?
And yet one cannot but love the French, above all on account
of their fascinating and attractive qualities, their unbounded
patriotism, their brilliant bravery, their ever youthful en-
thusiasm, their bright wit and their high level of art. And
one deplores the desolation which is spreading over their
glorious country and which might so easily have been avoided.
Late in the day we drive back into the town, past Place
Turenne, where a statue, nearly one hundred years old, has
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