Although I contemplate with equanimity my little corner in the Garden of Prosperpine, and with indifference this common lodging-house of earth, and although I view mundane affairs with the same fine, calm, philosophic, satirical eye as if I were already a disembodied spirit, yet I do not like to be baffled.

It makes me angry.
But during this interview with Lola Brandt I had not time to be angry.
I am angry now.

In fact I am in a condition bordering on that of a mad dog.

If Rogers came and disturbed me now, as I am writing, I would bite him.

But I will set calmly down the story of this appalling afternoon.
Lola stood before me wringing her hands.
"What are you going to do ?" "I can get an introduction to the _Chef de bureau_ of the information department of the _Ministere de la Guerre_ in Paris," I replied after a moment's reflection.