what was passing where two hundred miles resounded with strife. It
was enough to see Paris itself awaiting the siege; fighting one was yet
to see to repletion.

The situation must be very bad or the Government would not have
gone to Bordeaux. Alors, one must trust the army and the army must
trust Joffre. There is no trust like that of a democracy when it gives its
heart to a cause; the trust of the mass in the strength of the mass
which sweeps away the middlemen of intrigue.

And silence, only silence in Paris; the silence of the old men and the
women, and of children who had ceased to play and could not
understand. No one might see what was going on unless he carried a
rifle. No one might see even the wounded. Paris was spared this,
isolated in the midst of war. The wounded were sent out of reach of
the Germans in case they should come.

Then the indicator stopped falling. It throbbed upward. The
communiqués became more definite; they told of positions regained,
and borne in the ether by the wireless of telepathy was something
which confirmed the communiqués. At first Paris was uneasy with the
news, so set had history been on repeating itself, so remorselessly
certain had seemed the German advance. But it was true, true--the
Germans were going, with the French in pursuit, now twenty, now
thirty, now forty, now fifty, sixty, seventy miles away from Paris. Yes,
monsieur, seventy!

With the needle rising, did Paris gather in crowds and surge through
the streets, singing and shouting itself hoarse, as it ought to have
done according to the popular international idea? No, monsieur, Paris