We are under the impression to-day that an armistice will be signed to-morrow.

No one affects even to doubt that the word means peace.

The bourgeoisie are heartily tired of playing at soldiers, the game has lost its novelty, and the nights are too cold to make an occasional pic-nic to the fortifications agreeable any longer.

Besides, business is business, and pleasant as it may be to sit arrayed in uniform behind a counter, in the long run customers are more remunerative, if not so glorious.

The cry for peace is universal, the wealthy are lusting after the flesh-pots of Egypt, the hotel-keepers are eagerly waiting for the rush of sightseers, and the shopkeepers are anxious to make up for lost time by plundering friend and foe.