Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson, the famous Norwegian poet, has, from the beginning, taken Dreyfus’s defense and written article after article in the papers and proclaimed in every manner his belief in his innocence.  He hurried to Paris when he heard that Dreyfus had returned.  We were very glad when an invitation came from the Swedish Minister (Mr. Ackermann) to lunch with the great author.  I wish that you could see him, for to see him is to know him.  He has the kindest and noblest face in the world.  I wept over his account of the interview between him and Dreyfus.  The day and hour were fixed for his visit.  He found Madame Dreyfus alone.  She begged him to wait a moment, because her husband was so agitated at the thought of seeing him that he could not trust himself to appear.  When at last Dreyfus came into the room Bjoernson opened his arms.  Dreyfus fell weeping into them and sobbed, “Merci!  Merci!  Vous avez cru en moi”—­Bjoernson replied:  “Mon ami, fai souffert four vous, mon pauvre ami.”  Of course, this is only a very little part of what he told me, but it was all in this strain.  He said that during the interview, which lasted an hour, Dreyfus did not utter a word of reproach against his tormentors.

[Illustration:  BJOeRNSON From a photograph taken in 1901.]

Bjoernson gave a tea-party at his daughter’s house in Passy, and invited us.  I hoped that possibly Dreyfus might be there, but he was not.  However, I had the pleasure of seeing Colonel Picquard again, and we had a long talk together.  Afterward, when I bade Bjoernson good-by, he stooped down and kissed me on my forehead before the roomful of people.  Imagine my embarrassment at this unexpected and gratuitous token of friendship, but, the kisser being Bjoernson, every one knew that the accolade was merely the outpouring of a kind and good heart.

PARIS, August 15, 1900.

The hottest day we have had!  The thermometer was way up in the clouds.  My maid, in doing my hair this morning, informed me of this fact.  We conferred about my toilet for the afternoon fete in the Elysees Gardens.  We heard that twelve thousand people were invited.  Certainly I should be lost in a crowd like that and need not be dressed in my best.  My maid thought a rather flimsy gown of about year before last would be good enough.  Johan thought that he would be so entirely out of sight that he was on the point of not going at all.  Well, we had a queer awakening.  I was very much astonished when the master of ceremonies met me at the entrance and led me into the garden, where the vast lawn was one mass of humanity.  He bade me take the first seat.  I said to myself, “It is only for the moment; I shall have to move farther on later, when a higher-ranked lady arrives.”  Not at all!  I remained in the place of honor, to the right of Madame Loubet, to the very end.

In the middle of the lawn were placed a dozen large red arm-chairs before which a strip of carpet was stretched, where we sat.