"Right now, he was no longer sure of anything; at Saint-Ouen it was war all the time, but not here. Here was peace: shop-windows, displays of luxuries, colored fabrics, mirrors to look at yourself in, all the comforts of life. The people looked depressed, but that was natural enough. Why should they fight? They were waiting for nothing, they had all they wanted. It must be rather grim to hope for nothing except that life would continue indefinitely the way it started."