Fall of Giants

The effect of his complaint had been explosive. Prime Minister Asquith had sent the new minister of war, Lord Kitchener, hotfoot to Paris, and Sir John had been carpeted by his boss the day before yesterday. Fitz had high hopes that he would shortly be replaced. Failing that, at least he might be jerked out of his lethargy.

Fitz would soon find out.

He turned away from Gini and put his feet on the floor.

“Are you leaving?” she said.

He stood up. “I have work to do.”

She kicked off the sheet. Fitz looked at her perfect breasts. Catching his eye, she smiled through her tears and parted her legs invitingly.

He resisted temptation. “Make some coffee, chérie,” he said.

She put on a pale-green silk wrap and heated water while Fitz got dressed. Last night he had dined at the British embassy in his regimental mess kit, but after dinner he had shed the conspicuous scarlet military jacket and substituted a short tuxedo to go slumming.

She gave him strong coffee in a big cup like a bowl. “I will wait for you tonight at Albert’s Club,” she said. The nightclubs were officially closed, as were theaters and cinemas. Even the Folies Bergère was dark. Cafés closed at eight, and restaurants at nine thirty. But it was not so easy to shut down the nightlife of a great city, and enterprising types such as Albert had been quick to open illicit joints where they could sell champagne at extortionate prices.

“I’ll try to get there by midnight,” he said. The coffee was bitter but it washed away the last traces of sleepiness. He gave Gini a gold British sovereign. It was a generous payment for one night, and in such times gold was greatly preferred to paper money.

When he kissed her good-bye, she clung to him. “You will be there tonight, won’t you?” she said.

He felt sorry for her. Her world was collapsing and she did not know what to do. He would have liked to take her under his wing and promise to look after her, but he could not. He had a pregnant wife, and if Bea was upset she could lose the baby. Even if he had been a single man, to have encumbered himself with a French tart would have made him a laughingstock. Anyway, Gini was only one of millions. Everyone was frightened, except those who were dead. “I’ll do my best,” he said, and extracted himself from her embrace.

His blue Cadillac was parked at the curb. A small Union Jack flew from the bonnet. There were few private cars on the streets, and most had a flag, usually a tricolor or a red cross, to show they were being used for essential war work.

Getting the car there from London had taken ruthless use of Fitz’s connections and a small fortune in bribes, but he was glad he had taken the trouble. He needed to move daily between British and French headquarters, and it was a relief not to have to beg the loan of a car or a horse from the hard-pressed armies.

He pressed the automatic crank, and the engine turned over and fired. The streets were mostly empty of traffic. Even the buses had been commandeered for supplying the army at the front. He had to stop for a huge flock of sheep crossing town, presumably on their way to the Gare de l’Est to be sent by train to feed the troops.

He was intrigued to see a small crowd gathered around a poster freshly pasted to the wall of the Palais Bourbon. He pulled up and joined the people reading it.

ARMY OF PARIS

CITIZENS OF PARIS

Fitz’s eye went to the foot of the notice and he saw that it was signed by General Galliéni, the military governor of the city. Galliéni, a crusty old soldier, had been brought out of retirement. He was famous for holding meetings at which no one was allowed to sit down: he believed people reached decisions faster that way.

The body of his message was characteristically terse.

The members of the Government of the Republic have left Paris to give new impetus to the national defense.

Fitz was dismayed. The government had fled! There had been rumors for the last few days that ministers would decamp to Bordeaux, but the politicians had hesitated, not wanting to abandon the capital. However, now they had gone. It was a very bad sign.

The rest of the announcement was defiant.

I have been entrusted with the duty of defending Paris against the invader.

So, Fitz thought, Paris will not surrender after all. The city will fight. Good! That was certainly in British interests. If the capital had to fall, at least the enemy should be made to pay heavily for their conquest.

This duty I shall carry out to the last extremity.

Fitz could not help smiling. Thank God for old soldiers.

The people around seemed to have mixed feelings. Some comments were admiring. Galliéni was a fighter, someone said with satisfaction; he would not let Paris be taken. Others were more realistic. The government has left us, a woman said; that means the Germans will be here today or tomorrow. A man with a briefcase said he had sent his wife and children to his brother’s house in the country. A well-dressed woman said she had thirty kilos of dried beans in the kitchen cupboard.