rgent telegram" from Berlin, which the Kaiser is reported
to have read with a shiver, that precipitated the abdication and flight.

These details are significant, even in so brief a sketch of Foch's life
as this is; for in their very confusion and obscurity they tell a great
story of what was either realized or feared in the German camps and in
the German capital.

The magnitude of that which Foch was ready (and was by his enemies known
to be ready) to do could not be better conveyed to us than by the panicky
haste of those who knew themselves doomed, to make any concessions but at
all costs to avert Foch's next move.

Shortly after midnight on Sunday, the German delegation (which had by
Foch's orders been scrupulously served in the matter of their creature
comforts) again presented itself before him in his railway car. Four
hours were spent discussing the possibility of performing some of the
conditions exacted, and modifications were made which in no degree
altered the completeness of Germany's subjugation.

Then the papers were signed.

The Germans were punctiliously escorted to their own lines. I have not
heard what Foch did; but it would not surprise me to learn that he went
back to bed, and to sleep.

Perhaps, after giving orders for notifying his Government and her Allies,
he sent a message to Madame Foch. But I am quite sure that otherwise he
did not "celebrate," except that he gave God thanks for the victory.

XVIII

DURING THE ARMISTICE AND AFTER

When the French army rode into Metz, Foch was not at its head. There
may or there may not be another man who could and would have foregone
that satisfaction; but certainly there are not many.

It does not seem probable that he avoided the occasion; although it
would be like him to take advantage of some good excuse for absence if
he thought there was one of his generals who specially deserved and
desired the honor of that triumphant entry into reclaimed Metz.

The attitude of Foch toward praise and plaudits and personal glory is,
it seems to me, one of the supremely great things about him. I cannot
imagine him "ducking" shyly away from any place where he knew he ought
to for fear of salvos of acclaim; it would be as unsoldierly to him to
dodge cheers as to flee from battle, if that way his duty lay. And,
similarly, I cannot imagine him going anywhere to gratify his personal
feelings and collect the praises due him, if there was an urgent reaso