are combed and dressed as only French
and American children are combed and dressed, and with a more
economical ingenuity than American children. Each has a beautiful
purple silk necktie and a beautiful silk handkerchief to match. You
may notice that the purple silk is exactly the same purple silk as the
lining of their mother's rich mantle hanging over a chair back.

"I had to dismiss my last few work-girls on Saturday," said the
dressmaker. It was no longer possible to keep them. "I had seventy,
you know. Now--not one. For a time we made considerably less
than the rent. Now we make nothing. Nevertheless, some American
clients have been very kind."

Her glance went round the empty white salons with their mirrors in
sculptured frames. Naught of her stock was left except one or two
fragile blouses and a few original drawings.

Said the husband:

"We are eating our resources. I will tell you what this war means to
us. It means that we shall have to work seven or eight years longer
than we had the intention to work. What would you?"

He lifted his arms and lowered the corners of his mouth. Then he
turned again to the military aspect of things, elaborating it.

The soldier in him finished:

"It is necessary, all the same, to admire these cursed Germans."

"Admire them!" said his wife sharply. "I do not appreciate the
necessity. When I think of that day and that night we spent at
home!" They live in the eastern suburbs of the city. "When I think of
that day and that night! The cannon thundering at a distance of ten
kilometres!"

"Thirty kilometres, almost thirty, my friend," the husband corrected.

"Ten kilometres. I am sure it was not more than ten kilometres, my
friend."

"But see, my little one. It was at Meaux. Forty kilometres to Meaux.
We are at thirteen. That makes twenty-seven, at least."

"It sounded like ten."

"That is true."

"It sounded like ten, my dear Arnold. All day, and all night. We could
not go to bed. Had one any desire to go to bed? It was anguish. The
mere souvenir is anguish."

She kissed her youngest boy, who had long hair.

"Come, come!" the soldier calmed her.

Lastly: an interior dans le monde; a home illustrious in Paris for the
richness of its collections--bric-a-brac, fans, porcelain, furniture,
modern pictures; the walls frescoed by Pierre Bonnard and his
compeers; a black marble balcony with an incomparable view in the
very middle of the city. Here several worlds encoun