Siege_ declares the capital to be "the most strange and the most
marvellous city. On the eve of combat she still preserves her
unalterable gaiety, still sings, and strews flowers in front of the
soldiers. It is because her resolution is firmly taken, and that she
awaits the attack with a firm stand and a valiant heart. To-day, it is a
festival Sunday indeed;--on every side is animation, enthusiasm, life.
We have made the tour of the boulevards; we have traversed the
Champs-Elysees, the Rue de Rivoli, the quais. Everywhere there are
tranquil countenances, and everywhere the Sunday crowd, gay, in no way
impressed, nowise dejected, as the despatches to foreign journals
assert.... The little street industries have not ceased; the tight-rope
dancers continue their performances tranquilly in the midst of the
military groups. If the Prussian spies were there, they could have
heard, as we did, the converse of this valiant and joyous population,
which waits only for a signal to hasten to the ramparts, and which has
lost nothing of its complete self-assurance of the great days."

[Illustration: YOUNG BOURGEOISE AT TOILETTE.

From a drawing, in colors, by Maurice Bonvoison, called "Mars."]

Two months later, the picture had become somewhat more sombre. M.
Edouard Dangin writes: "Paris has become a veritable city of war. At
seven o'clock in the morning, before all the gates of the city, the
guard is under arms, the drum beats _aux champs_, the portcullis is
lowered. It is the opening of the gates. At eight o'clock, in all the
quarters of the city, the rappel is beaten, all the citizen soldiers who
are to relieve the guard on the ramparts and on the minor posts are
called to arms. Others are called out for the drill; there are, however,
some quarters in which there is no drill in the mornings. The crowd
commences to form in line before the butcher-shops in which beef and
horse-flesh are sold, even before the doors are opened, then it becomes
more numerous; the housekeepers press against each other, crowd and
jostle. The men hasten to the different kiosques and purchase the
newspapers, to learn the news of the morning. At noon, the distributions
are all made; calm reigns, Paris is taking its dejeuner.... Toward
half-past three the rappel is heard again in various quarters,--it is
the evening drill. From all the houses issue the national guards, their
muskets on their shoulders. At five o'clock, the drums beat _aux champs_
again b