Herzl

Early in June 1895, the solitary figure of a distinguished-looking Austrian gentelman could be seen daily pacing the pebbled walks of the Paris Tuileries gardens. Dark-bearded, in immaculate, severe dress, he was clearly in a state of great agitation. His walk was alternately slow and abrupt.
For most of the day he would remain closeted in his hotel room on the nearby rue Cambon. At dusk he usually emerged, pale and grave; his feverish eyes were surrounded by dark rings; the pallor of his handsome face suggested an illness, or some serious mental crisis. Clutching a little notebook in his hand, he would stop short from time to time to jot down a few lines. Then he would resume his nervous pace.