The sun had glittered then, as it glittered now over the Arc de Triomphe, the gleaming dome of the Invalides and the golden waters of the Seine.

It was Paris, soft, beautiful and bright, the Paris that wished no harm to anybody.
But the people were going.

He could see them going everywhere.

The cruel, ancient times when cities were destroyed or enslaved by the conqueror had come back, and the great Paris that the world had known so long might become lost forever.
The stream of fugitives, rich and poor, mingled, poured on without ceasing.

He did not know where they were going.