Free Julius by Daphne du Maurier Page A

to-day,’ said Julius, ‘we might have done business and made profit.’
    But the guns were silent, the last Prussian shell had fallen. In the streets little groups of people formed, red-eyed, silent, their heads low as though some calamity had befallen them.
    Paul Lévy pushed his way amongst them, and side by side he and Julius read the proclamation on the wall signed by all the members of the Government and dated Paris, the twenty-eighth of January, 1871. It was the terms of the armistice and the surrender of Paris, the siege had lasted four months and twelve days.The crowd read it in silence, no voices were raised in hostility or defiance, nor was there a single expression of agreement or content. They stared at the printed letters, dumb and unresponsive, it was as though all the suffering and the horror and the anguish of what had been and which would always remain deep in their hearts, could not be put into words, not now, nor ever. There was a man in a blue blouse and a cap on the back of his head who looked like Jean Blançard. He stood with his arms folded, his face hard as a stone. He did not seem to be reading at all, he stared in front of him, his eyes dry and cold. When he spoke his voice was like one coming from far away.
    ‘It’s over,’ he said.
    Nobody spoke in answer. From the back of the little group a woman sobbed and then was silent, putting her shawl over her mouth. Then the crowd broke up and dispersed. They melted away as though they had never been. Julius looked up at Père, and he too seemed dumb like the rest of them, dazed and queer, he stared at the letters like a sleeping man. Julius tugged at his hand.
    ‘It’s over,’ said Père.
    He turned on his heel, and began to walk up the street in any direction.
    ‘Where are we going?’ asked Julius. But Père did not answer him at all. And the day that passed was muddled and confused, one moment here, one moment there, and this was followed by another day and another day. At night they slept in churches. In the daytime Père would leave Julius, and he himself would try to find out whether people were free now to leave Paris or whether they must wait for the peace.To leave Paris it was necessary to obtain a pass from the Préfecture de Police, there were various formalities that must be gone through. Technically every citizen was a prisoner of war. By making such a demand Paul Lévy would be discovered. He did not know what to do. He was a dreamer unpractical, inexperienced, without initiative, all he knew was that he must get away from Paris and even France if possible. The idea was fixed in his head. It stood before him like a light that he could not grasp.
    He and his son sat huddled together in the entrance of a church. Père looked ill, his dark hair was matted, for three days he had not been able to wash.
    ‘We must get away,’ he kept repeating, ‘we must get away.’
    He sat with bent head, his white hands drooping over his knee.
    Julius was turning his cap inside out, looking for bugs. He caught one and squeezed it between his finger and thumb.
    ‘Can’t we find a train?’ he asked. ‘There must be trains leaving the stations now that the siege is over. The soldiers are going home to the provinces.’
    ‘One must have a pass,’ said Père. ‘They will never let us enter the station. And even once a train is in motion it is obliged to stop now and again, and the Prussians search the carriages. Again, I am not sure of the price of a ticket. It will cost dear to travel far.’
    ‘Where do we want to go, Père?’
    ‘South,’ said Paul Lévy, and he made a vague gesture with his hands.
    Julius knew that in the south living was plentiful and the sun always shone.
    ‘It is a pity to waste money on a ticket,’ he said, ‘we ought to be able to go south for nothing.’
    Père did not know how this could be managed.
    ‘No one can travel without a ticket,’ he said, shaking his head. He seemed to have lost hope. He looked