Soldiers, peasants, women, children, horse carts and bullock
waggons, all were pushing here and there, broken down and deserted
motor cars were standing in the middle of the road. In the great round
central "Place" confusion was worse, animals, carts, and refugee
bivouacks being all squashed together on the market place.
White-bearded officers with grey-green uniforms were gesticulating to
white-bearded civilians outside the Cafe de Paris. A motor rushed up,
disgorged three men in Russian uniform and fled. A small fat man vainly
endeavouring to attract the attention of a staff officer grasped him by
the arm; the staff officer shook him off angrily. Soldiers lounged
against the walls and peered in through the dirty windows....
Within, the big dark room was crammed. Opening the door was like turning
a corner of cliff by the seashore. Almost all, at the tables, were men:
officers, tradesmen, clerks, talking in eager tense words. We found
three seats. Nobody had anything to eat or drink.
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