He
had filled in the blanks with his name and description of his person;
and at the foot were very conspicuous the signatures of two residents of
the rue de la Pompe--a tavern-keeper, and a friend of the concierge. The
district Commissary of Police, with stamp and seal, had guaranteed the
respectability of these honorable witnesses. Nobody could remain in
doubt, after such precautions, as to whether he had or had not witnessed
the siege of Paris. He had such incredulous friends! . . .
In order to bring the scene more dramatically before his amiable
listener, he recalled the most striking of his impressions for her
special benefit. Once, in broad daylight, he had seen a flock of sheep
in the boulevard near the Madeleine. Their tread had resounded through
the deserted streets like echoes from the city of the dead. He was the
only pedestrian on the sidewalks thronged with cats and dogs.
His military recollections excited him like tales of glory.
"I have seen the march of the soldiers from Morocco. . . . I have seen
the Zouaves in automobiles!"
The very night that Julio had gone to Bordeaux, he had wandered around
till sunrise, traversing half of Paris, from the Lion of Belfort, to
the Gare de l'Est. Twenty thousand men, with all their campaign outfit,
coming from Morocco, had disembarked at Marseilles and arrived at the
Capital, making part of the trip by rail and the rest afoot.
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