Walking rapidly, he went through the corridors and crossed the courtyard. His heart was heavy. 'Poor das Viernas! Poor old men!' In his mind's eye, he saw their stiff collars, their derbies, that righteous anger in their eyes. 'France is our only hope,' they had said. But nowhere was there any hope, no more in France than anywhere else. He crossed the street and leaned against the railing of the quay. As seen from Portugal, France still shone with the stubborn glitter of a burnt-out star, and Henri had let himself be taken in by this. Suddenly he realized that he was living in the moribund capital of a very small country. The Seine was flowing in its bed; the Madeleine, the Chambre des Deputes were in their places, the Obelisk, too. One could easily have been led to believe that the war had miraculously spared Paris. 'That's what we wanted to believe,' Henri thought, turning the car into the Boulevard St Germain where the chestnut trees were faithfully blossoming. They had all let themselves be complacently fooled by those houses, those trees, those benches which so perfectly aped the past. But actually the once proud capital of the world had been utterly destroyed. Henri was nothing but an insignificant citizen of a fifth-rate power, and L'Espoir was a local sheet on the same level as a village weekly. Mournfully, he climbed the stairs to his office. France can't do anything for herself. Giving information to people who can do nothing, exciting their interest, arousing their indignation — what good could it do? He had written that series on Portugal with loving care, as if it could stir up public opinion from pole to pole. And Washington didn't give a damn, and the Quai d'Orsay was in no position to help. He sat down at his desk and reread the beginning of his article. What was the use? People would read it, nod their heads, throw the paper into a waste-basket, and that was it What difference did it make if L'Espoir remained independent or not, if it had more or fewer readers, or even if it went bankrupt? 'It isn't even worth the trouble to be stubborn over it!' Henri thought suddenly. Dubreuilh and Samazelle believed they, could make good use of the paper; they believed, too, that France, if she didn't remain isolated, still had an important role to play in the world. All hope was on their side; elsewhere, nothing but emptiness. 'Well? Why not ring and tell them I accept?' Henri said to himself. For a long moment he looked at the telephone on his desk. But his hand remained frozen. He went back to his article.