The heavy trucks of the
administration, filled with sacks, were saluted with general enthusiasm.
"Hurrah for the army!" The soldiers in mechanic's garb, on top of the
swaying pyramid, replied to the cheers, waving their arms and uttering
shouts that nobody pretended to understand.
Fraternity had created a tolerance hitherto unknown. The crowds were
pressing forward, but in their encounters, invariably preserved good
order. Vehicles were running into each other, and when the conductors
resorted to the customary threats, the crowds would intervene and make
them shake hands. "Three cheers for France!" The pedestrians, escaping
between the wheels of the automobiles were laughing and good-naturedly
reproaching the chauffeur with, "Would you kill a Frenchman on his way
to his regiment?" and the conductor would reply, "I, too, am going in
a few hours. This is my last trip." As night approached, cars and cabs
were running with increasing irregularity, many of the employees having
abandoned their posts to take leave of their families and make the
train. All the life of Paris was concentrating itself in a half-dozen
human rivers emptying in the stations.
Desnoyers and Argensola met in a boulevard cafe toward midnight. Both
were exhausted by the day's emotions and under that nervous depression
which follows noisy and violent spectacles.
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