New experiences are awaiting him. He is far away from the mob that pelted
his windows with stones and yelled 'Conspuez! Conspuez!' whenever he left
his house. Here there is no hostility. Here quietude prevails, save for
the shrill whistles of arriving or departing trains. Yet he is also far
from the great majority of his affections and friendships. But at this
remembrance a fresh thought comes to him; he takes one of his visiting
cards from his pocket-book, pencils a few lines on it, and encloses it in
an envelope ready to be posted. Then he again lies down; tired as he is,
after his exciting day at Versailles and his wearisome night journey, he
soon falls soundly asleep.

II

IN LONDON

On Tuesday, July 19, I went to London on business, and did not return to
my home in the south-western suburbs until nearly seven o'clock in the
evening. My wife immediately placed in my hands an envelope addressed to
me in the handwriting of M. Zola. At first, having noticed neither the
stamp nor the postmark, I imagined that the communication had come from
Paris.

On opening the envelope, however, I found that it contained a card on
which was written in French and in pencil:--

'My dear confrere,--Tell nobody in the world, and particularly
no newspaper, that I am in London. And oblige me by coming to
see me to-morrow, Wednesday, at eleven o'clock, at Grosvenor
Hotel. You will ask for M. Pascal. And above all, absolute
Silence, for the most serious interests are at stake.

'Cordially,
'EMILE ZOLA.'

I was for a moment amazed and also somewhat affected by this message, the
first addressed by M. Zola to anybody after his departure from France.
Since the publication of his novel 'Paris,' which had followed his first
trial, I had not seen him, and we had exchanged but few letters. I had
written to express my sympathy over the outcome of the proceedings at
Versailles, but owing to his sudden flitting my note had failed to reach
him. And now here he was in London--in exile, as, curiously enough, I
myself had foretold as probable some time before in a letter to one of
the newspapers.

My first impulse was to hurry to the Grosvenor immediately, but I
reflected that I might not find him there, and that even if I did I might
inconvenience him, as he had appointed the follo