. . . . .
That a civilian should be in the war zone at all is a fair
guarantee of his good faith. It is when he is outside the
zone unchaperoned that questions begin, and the permits are
looked into. If these are irregular--but one doesn't care to
contemplate it. If regular, there are still a few
counter-checks. As the sergeant at the railway station said
when he helped us out of an impasse: "You will realize that it
is the most undesirable persons whose papers are of the most
regular. It is their business you see. The Commissary of Police
is at the Hotel de Ville, if you will come along for the little
formality. Myself, I used to keep a shop in Paris. My God,
these provincial towns are desolating!"
PARIS--AND NO FOREIGNERS
He would have loved his Paris as we found it. Life was
renewing itself in the streets, whose drawing and proportion
one could never notice before. People's eyes, and the women's
especially, seemed to be set to a longer range, a more
comprehensive gaze. One would have said they came from the
sea or the mountains, where things are few and simple, rather
than from houses. Best of all, there were no foreigners--the
beloved city for the first time was French throughout from end
to end. It felt like coming back to an old friend's house for
a quiet talk after he had got rid of a houseful of visitors.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70