The herald., 1917-12-13


wore a veil of sad tears and
- brave laughter? That is Paris
Just now, after three years of war sor-
row and war triumph, writes James
Milne in the Graphic. She has let sore
tears fall, but, like the tears which
make pearls. they begin to shine in the
sun of assured victory. Paris puts her
trials behind her, resOlute that they
nfe over and must be forgotten. She
lets the smiles Of a naturally merry
heart light the road before her, know
ing how to play the heroine In these
great days, as she played them In the
great days of old. "Paris vault bien
une messe" said Henri Quatre. If he
came back to her from the royal
shades, he would think her worth
many masses.
Perhaps one knows French lady
who. in her elegant self, seems to in
carnate War-Paris. She will wear
black for somebody heroically dead,
or In tribute to the nations "lost le-
gion," who are not really lost, only
gone before to prepare the way OF u
touch Of white somewhere to tighten
the black, as the sun breaks through
clouds into a clear sky. Maybe she
has been nursing, this French lady,
ever since the war began. But there
Is no WEAKNESS in her bright eyes, no
forgetfulness of the art, simple, subtle,
instructive, with which the French
woman wears her clothes. You SYM
pathetically ask for tales of tragedy
begotten in her circle by the hard ex-
cursions Of Armageddon. She bends
her head reverently. a flash in her
face, and tells you the latest good
story of inimitable Monsieur Poilu.
Women Capable and Serious.
That, If you please, is Madame
Paris, as you meet her In Boulevard
end Bots, q woman who mourns for the
departed, but in the cause of their de-
parture finds q new moral inspiration.
You understand her and salute her, in
maid, wife and widow. How capable
they are, how serious, how detached
to all appearance, from the frills and
furbelows of the woman's life as we
used to regard it. But they remain
complete women, with q coquettisll
response for compliment, If it be del
icate enough.
Even Charles Edward Stuart, an
Gent bachelor as he is, Philistine n:
he fondiy thinks himself to be, take!
off his hat to the Parisienne in this
war time. He is q dear friend of ours
he lives In Old Paris, just as the youn:
pretender might have done, up a wind
ing oak staircase so dark that tn
concierge gives you a candle to ligh
Il. and that Is why we add a word L
his rightful name and call him Charlie
Edward Stuart. "Yes," says he, 18th
Parisienne is at least as fine as tn
Partisan under the war ordeal, som
might say finer, better mettle of tn
French pasture. She is consolin
force, at high surge like this, of tn
fascinating and repulsive, mysteriou
and commonplace, awful and trivii
life in which, God knows why, pei
haps, we have been pitched for a fe'
moments"
In Old Paris.
When q new book appears, read q
old one when you want to understan
the spirit of today's Paris, go down Il
to Old Paris so we went to st. Etienr
du Mont, near the Pantheon. 1--WE oil
lucky" whispered Charles Edwal
Stuart, as we stood within the sacrt
walls, sin being here under the be
conditions. Look! that CLEAN Of ST
falling on the little red-robed acolyt
And the clouds of incense from h
swinging censor-it Is great" Ma
guerite de Valois would think so he
self, and the founding of st. Etienl
du Mont goes back to her. That W,
The old church, and q window shoy
the removal of the shrine of Il
"Sainte" to the new church.
1t is, you see, the Paris that the &c
mans wanted TO loot, and they won
not, like ourselves, have stayed oil
side the door Of st. Etienne du Mo
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