e results of man's planning and building. Silent, deserted
Paris by moonlight, without street lamps--few had ever seen that.
Millionaire tourists with retinues of servants following them in motor-
cars may never know this effect; nor the Parisienne who paid a
thousand francs to send her pet dog to Marseilles.

The moonlight threw the Arc de Triomphe in exaggerated spectral
relief, sprinkled the leaves of the long rows of trees, glistened on the
upsweep of the broad pavements, gleamed on the Seine. Paris was
majestic, as scornful of Prussian eagles as the Parthenon of Roman
eagles. A column of soldiery marching in triumph under the Arc might
possess as a policeman possesses; but not by arms could they gain
the quality that made Paris, any more than the Roman legionary
became a Greek scholar by doing sentry go in front of the Parthenon.
Every Parisian felt anew how dear Paris was to him; how worthy of
some great sacrifice!

If New York were in danger of falling to an enemy, the splendid length
of Fifth Avenue and the majesty of the skyscrapers of lower
Broadway and the bay and the rivers would become vivid to you in a
way they never had before; or Washington, or San Francisco, or
Boston--or your own town. The thing that is a commonplace, when
you are about to lose it takes on a cherished value.

To-morrow the German guns might be thundering in front of the
fortifications. The communiques from Joffre became less frequent
and more laconic. Their wording was like some trembling, fateful
needle of a barometer, pausing, reacting a little, but going down,
down, down, indicator of the heart-pressure of Paris, shrivelling the
flesh, tightening the nerves. Already Paris was in a state of siege, in
one sense. Her exits were guarded against all who were not in
uniform and going to fight; to all who had no purpose except to see
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