it is a sad and gloomy city, where men and women go about with solemn,
anxious faces, and every conversation seems to begin and end with the
dreadful word "War!"

There is no more rioting in the streets. The bands of young blackguards
who went about pillaging the shops of inoffensive citizens have been
cleared from the streets, and demonstrations of every kind are strictly
forbidden. So far is this carried that a cab was stopped at the
Madeleine, and a policeman ordered the cab driver to take the little
French flag out of the horse's collar.

In the evening the city is wrapped in a silence which makes it difficult
to realize that one is in the capital of a great commercial center. The
smallest of provincial villages would seem lively compared with the
boulevards last night. But for large numbers of policemen and occasional
military patrols, the streets were practically deserted.

There is, however, nothing for the police to do, for the sternly worded
announcement that disturbers of the peace would be court-martialed had
the instant effect of putting a stop to any noisy demonstrations, let
alone any attempts at pillage. Policemen can be seen sitting about on
doorsteps or leaning against trees.

Parisians are already going through a small revival of what they did
during the siege of 1871. They are lining up at regular hours outside
provision shops and waiting their turn to be served. Many large
groceries are open only from nine to eleven in the morning and from
three to five in the afternoon, not because there is any scarcity of
food, but on account of lack of assistants, all their young men being at
the front or on their way there.