Toward the end of the war, a certain Headquarters retreated across the Rhine, leaving behind one officer and a garrison of local conscripts. The officer had asked to be left, yet could give no reason; it was said that he was ill, and there was no time to investigate the matter.

Here where we live, the avenues are deep and calm as alleys of a cemetery. The streets which run from the École Militaire to the Invalides seem somehow reserved for state funeral processions: