She was all things to all men.

To some she offered triumphal arches, statues, paintings; to others by day racing, and by night Maxims and the Rat Mort.

Some loved her for the book- stalls along the Seine and ateliers of the Latin Quarter; some for her parks, forests, gardens, and boulevards; some because of the Luxembourg; some only as a place where everybody was smiling, happy, and polite, where they were never bored, where they were always young, where the lights never went out and there was no early call.

Should they to-day revisit her they would find her grown grave and decorous, and going to bed at sundown, but still smiling bravely, still polite.
You cannot wipe out Paris by removing two million people and closing Cartier's and the Cafe de Paris.

There still remains some hundred miles of boulevards, the Seine and her bridges, the Arc de Triomphe, with the sun setting behind it, and the Gardens of the Tuilleries.