The Butte-Montmartre is _en fête_. The weather is charming, and every
one goes to see the cannon and inspect the barricades, Men, women, and
children mount the hilly streets, and they all appear joyous ... for
what, they cannot say themselves, but who can resist the charm of
sunshine? If it rained, the city would be in mourning. Now the citizens
have closed their shops and put on their best clothes, and are going to
dine at the restaurant. These are the very enemies of disorder, the
small shopkeepers and the humble citizens. Strange contradiction! But
what would you have? the sun is so bright, the weather is so lovely.
Yesterday no work was done because of the insurrection; it was like a
Sunday. To-day therefore is the holiday-Monday of the insurrection.
[Illustration: Behind a Barricade: The Morning Meal—thirty Sous A Day
and nothing to eat]