Before the war, antiquated river steamers puffed through the heart of Paris along the silent river Seine. On a lovely spring morning those who sat on deck beheld history unfold before their eyes. Between floating laundry barges, tall poplars, lines of motionless fishermen, they passed within a stone's throw of Daumier's house on the Ile St. Louis. Gliding under the great city's bridges, they threaded their way through the formal shadow of the Louvre, crept by the Tuileries Gardens, the Place de la Concorde, skirted the soft Bois de Boulogne, finally relinquished the...
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