For whole days, for whole nights, you will see the long
rolling streams of men plucked from the fields of battle, from the
plain over there that also has feelings of its own, though it bleeds
and rots without end.
22
Going About
WE have been along the Boulevard de la Republique and then
the Avenue Gambetta, and now we are debouching into the Place du
Commerce. The nails in our polished boots ring on the pavements of
the capital. It is fine weather, and the shining sky glistens and
flashes as if we saw it through the frames of a greenhouse; it sets
a-sparkle all the shop-fronts in the square. The skirts of our
well-brushed greatcoats have been let down, and as they are usually
fastened back, you can see two squares on the floating lappets where
the cloth is bluer.
Our sauntering party halts and hesitates for a moment in front of
the Cafe de la Sous-Prefecture, also called the
Grand-Cafe.
"We have the right to go in!" says Volpatte.
"Too many officers in there," replies Blaire, who has lifted his
chin over the guipure curtains in which the establishment is dressed
up and risked a glance through the window between its golden
letters.
"Besides," says Paradis, "we haven't seen enough yet."
We resume our walk and, simple soldiers that we are, we survey the
sumptuous shops that encircle the Place du Commerce; the drapers,
the stationers, the chemists, and--like a General's decorated
uniform--the display of the jeweler.
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