Erect, and of distinguished appearance, General Foch is a man rather past middle life, with heavy iron-grey hair, rather bushy grey eyebrows and a moustache.  His eyes are grey and extremely direct.  His speech incisive and rather rapid.

Although some of the staff had donned the new French uniform of grey-blue, the general wore the old uniform, navy-blue, the only thing denoting his rank being the three dull steel stars on the embroidered sleeve of his tunic.

There was little ceremony at the meal.  The staff remained standing until General Foch and I were seated.  Then they all sat down and dejeuner was immediately served.

One of the staff told me later that the general is extremely punctilious about certain things.  The staff is expected to be in the dining room five minutes before meals are served.  A punctual man himself, he expects others to be punctual.  The table must always be the epitome of neatness, the food well cooked and quietly served.

Punctuality and neatness no doubt are due to his long military training, for General Foch has always been a soldier.  Many of the officers of France owe their knowledge of strategy and tactics to his teaching at the Ecole de Guerre.

General Foch led the conversation.  Owing to the rapidity of his speech, it was necessary to translate much of it for me.  We spoke, one may say, through a clearing house.  But although he knew it was to be translated to me, he spoke, not to the interpreter, but to me, and his keen eyes watched me as I replied.  And I did not interview General Foch.  General Foch interviewed me.  I made no pretence at speaking for America.  I had no mission.  But within my limitations I answered him as well as I could.

“There are many ties between America and France,” said General Foch.  “We wish America to know what we are doing over here, to realise that this terrible war was forced on us.”

I mentioned my surprise at the great length of the French line—­more than four hundred miles.

“You do not know that in America?” he asked, evidently surprised.

I warned him at once not to judge the knowledge of America by what I myself knew, that no doubt many quite understood the situation.

“But you have been very modest,” I said.  “We really have had little information about the French Army and what it is doing, unless more news is going over since I left.”

“We are more modest than the Germans, then?”

“You are, indeed.  There are several millions of German-born Americans who are not likely to let America forget the Fatherland.  There are many German newspapers also.”

“What is the percentage of German population?”

I told him.  I think I was wrong.  I think I made it too great.  But I had not expected to be interviewed.

“And these German newspapers, are they neutral?”

“Not at all.  Very far from it.”