Even in Modena, on the boundary-line of Italy, when I was returning to France, and sharing a lonely Christmas with the conductor of the wagon-lit, we were held up by train-robbers, who took our money and then pinned medals on us.
Until we reached Paris we did not know why. It was only later we learned that in the two days’ campaign the poilus was benefited to the sum of many millions of francs.
In Paris and over all France, for every one is suffering through the war, there is some individual or organization at work to relieve that suffering. Every one helps, and the spirit in which they help is most wonderful and most beautiful. No one is forgotten.
When the French artists were called to the front, the artists’ models of the Place Pigalle and Montmartre were left destitute. They had not “put by.” They were butterflies.
So some women of the industrious, busy-bee order formed a society to look after the artists’ models. They gave them dolls to dress, and on the sale of dolls the human manikins now live.
Nor is any one who wants to help allowed to feel that he or she is too poor; that for his sou or her handiwork there is no need. The midinettes, the “cash” girls of the great department stores and millinery shops, had no money to contribute, so some one thought of giving them a chance to help the soldiers with their needles.
It was purposed they should make cockades in the national colors. Every French girl is taught to sew; each is born with good taste. They were invited to show their good taste in the designing of cockades, which people would buy for a franc, which franc would be sent to some soldier.
A poster inviting the proprietors of restaurants and hotels and their guests to welcome the soldiers who have permission to visit Paris, especially those who come from the districts invaded by the Germans.