element of weakness. This
belief was well grounded; the Germans probably knew France better than
the French themselves and skilfully adapted their attacks to the lacks
and negligences which the swarming spies laid bare. The group, of
whose scrutiny we had become aware, was made up of _ouvriers_ and
_ouvrieres_, the men in the invariable blouse, with dark matted
hair and black eyes, sometimes with a ratlike keenness of glance as
they surveyed us. The women were roughly dressed, sometimes in sabots,
with heads bare or surmounted by conical caps. They belonged to the
proletariat, the class out of which had come in the Reign of Terror
the sans-culottes of evil memory and the _tricoteuses_ who had
sat knitting about the _guillotine_, the class which, within
a few months, was again to set the world aghast as the mob of _La
Commune_. As we stood disconcerted by their intent gaze, they put
their heads together and talked in low and rapid tones; then their
spokesman approached us, a man of polite bearing but ominously stern.
He was not a clumsy fellow, but darkly forceful and direct, a man
capable of a quick, desperate deed. At the moment there was the grim
tiger in their eyes and from the soft paw the swift protrusion of the
cruel claw. One thought of the wild revolutionary song, "Ca ca, ca
ira, les aristocrats a la lanterne!" They were the children of the mob
that had sung that song. With a bow, the spokesman said: "Messieurs,
we think you are Germans and we wish to know if we are right." We
protested that we were Americans, but the spokesman said he was
unconvinced, and as he pressed for further evidence I gave way to my
companion whose readier French could deal better with the situation.
He demanded to see our passports with which fortunately we were both
provided; I had not thought of a passport as a necessity, and almost
by chance had procured one the week before from our Minister
in Switzerland, a careful description, vouching for my American
citizenship, signed and sealed by the United States official.
This perhaps saved my life. We surrendered our passports to our
interrogator; he carried them back to the throng behind him who were
now glowering angrily at us, as they chattered among themselves.
Half-amused and half-alarmed, we waited while the documents were
passed from hand to hand, carefully conned and inspected. We could not
believe that we were in danger, here in the bright day in beautiful
Paris, with the sacred t