[Illustration: THE INHABITANTS OF NEUILLY ENTERING PARIS DURING THE ARMISTICE OF THE 28TH OF APRIL
The firing ceased from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon, when Paris cabs, furniture-vans, ambulance-waggons, band-barrows, and all sorts of vehicles were requisitioned to bring in the sad remains and dilapidated household goods of the suburban _bombardés_. They entered by the gate of Ternes--for that of Porte Maillot was in ruins and impassable. Many went to the Palais de l'Industrie, in the Champs Elysées, where a commission sat to allot vacant apartments in Paris. On this occasion some robberies were committed, and refractories escaped: it is even said that hard-hearted landlords wished to prevent their lodgers from departing--an object in which the proprietors were not very successful. The poor woman perched on the top of her relics, saved from the cellar in which she had lived in terror for fourteen days, deplores the loss of her husband and the shapeless mass of ruin and rubbish she once called her happy home; whilst her boys bring in green stuff from the surburban gardens, and a middle-aged neighbour stalks along with his pet parrot, the bird all the while amusing himself with elaborate imitations of the growl of the mitrailleuse and the hissing of shells ending with terrific and oft-repeated explosions.]
Out of all the houses, or rather from what was once the houses, emerge the inhabitants carrying different articles of furniture, tables, mattresses, boxes. They come out as it were from their graves. Relations meet and embrace, after having suffered almost the bitterness of death. Thousands run backwards and forwards; the carts are heaped up to overflowing, everything that is not destroyed must be carried away. A large van filled with orphan children moves on towards the barrier; a sister of charity is seated beside the driver. The most impatient of the refugees are already through the Porte Maillot; who will give them hospitality there? No one seems to think of that. The excitement caused by all this movement is almost joyous under the brilliant rays of the sun. But time presses, in a few minutes the short truce will have expired. Stragglers hurry along with heavy loads. At the gates, the crowding and confusion are greater than in the morning. Carts heavily laden, move slowly and with difficulty; the contents of several are spilled on the highway. More shouting, crowding, and pushing, until the gates are passed at last, and the emigrant crowd disperses along the different streets and avenues into the heart of Paris. A happy release from bondage, but what a dismal promised land!