ound
towards this gate I found that all the way down the square, and
further along the road as far as the eye could see, the route was (p. 117)
lined with people, about one hundred deep, with two rows of French
cavalry in front. These people had all taken their places, and they
would not let me through. I thought for sure I was going to miss the
show, and the sweat of nerves broke out on me. By great luck I met a
French Captain, to whom I, in my very broken French, explained my
plight. He was most kind, took my card, made a way through the crowd,
explained and showed my card to the military horsemen, and I was let
through. Then the sweat began to run. I found myself about
three-quarters of a mile away from the entrance to the Palace, all by
myself in this human-sided avenue--thousands of people staring at me.
I expected every minute to be arrested. Naturally, no one else entered
on foot. They all drove up in their cars. Guards at the gates scanned
my dripping face, but not a word was uttered to me, no pass was asked
for--nothing!

[Illustration: L. _The Rt. Hon. the Earl of Derby, K.G., etc._]

The marble staircase was most imposing, lined on each side by
Municipal Guards, but the Hall of Mirrors was pandemonium, a mass of
little humans, all trying to get to different places. In the end I got
to the centre window. It was empty. I was the first artist to arrive,
and very satisfied I was to have got there safely. Suddenly, up walked
a French Colonel, who told me to get out. I showed him my card and
told him this was the window reserved for artists. He explained that
this had been changed, and that the next window was reserved for them,
and led me off there. There I found all the French and American
artists huddled together. As soon as the Colonel left, I crept back to
the centre window. I was turned back again. This creeping to the
centre window and being turned back continued till I spoke to M. (p. 118)
Arnavon, who advised me to stop in the artists' window till just
before the show started, and then to go to the middle window. Just
before the beginning there was great excitement. A stream of
secretaries came up the Hall, two carrying chairs, and with them two
grubby-looking old men. The chairs were placed in the centre window,
and the old chaps sat themselves down. They were country friends of
Clemenceau's, and he had said that morning that they were to have the
centre window, and that artists could go to--so