Chapter Content
In August of 1914, Paris stood on the edge of fear.
For weeks, columns of refugees had poured through its streets—families, carts, wounded men, priests, and children—moving westward ahead of the advancing grey tide of Germany that had broken through Belgium and now pressed into northern France. The roads were choked with dust, grief, and rumor.
And yet, within the cafés, salons, and boulevards of the capital, confidence still lived.
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