will not riot in joy in the presence of the dead on the battlefields and
while German troops are still within the boundaries of France. Paris,
which had been with heart standing still and breathing hard, began to
breathe regularly again and the glow of life to run through her veins.
In the markets, whither madame brought succulent melons, pears,
and grapes with commonplace vegetables, the talk of bargaining
housewives with their baskets had something of its old vivacity and
madame stiffened prices a little, for there will be heavy taxes to pay
for the war. Children, so susceptible to surroundings, broke out of the
quiet alleys and doorways in play again.

A Sunday of relief, with a radiant September sun shining, followed a
Sunday of depression. The old taxicabs and the horse vehicles with
their venerable steeds and drivers too old for service at the front,
exhumed from the catacomb of the hours of doubt, ran up and down
the Champs Elysées with airing parties. At Notre Dame the religious
rejoicing was expressed. A great service of prayer was held by the
priests who were not away fighting for France, as three thousand are,
while joyful prayers of thanks shone on the faces of that democratic
people who have not hesitated to discipline the church as they have
disciplined their rulers. Groups gathered in the cafés or sauntered
slowly, talking less than usual, gesticulating little, rolling over the
good news in their minds as something beyond the power of
expression. How banal to say, "C'est chic, ça!" or "C'est épatant!"
Language is for little things.

That pile of posters at the American Embassy had already become
historical souvenirs which won a smile. The name of every American
resident in Paris and his address had been filled in the blank space.
He had only to put up the warning over his door that the premises