Pont Alexandre III

There's the Palais Royale with the gardens and the benches you'll recognize from the series.

You've got Pont Alexandre III, one of those ridiculous beau- beautiful Paris bridges that appear in the show.

And then obviously you've got the Paris classics, the Eiffel Tower, the Seine, cafe terraces, beautiful little streets.

You're going to walk around with a croissant and pretend you casually live there, but anywhere that you go around Paris, you will probably recognize places from Emily in Paris.

But the few there were did not care to be disturbed.

they lurked behind their walls of sheeting their bastions of flannelette as if ashamed to be discovered and when one had coaxed them out they went through the necessary gestures automatically as if mournfully wondering that any one should care to buy i remember once at the louvre seeing the whole force of a department including the salesman i was trying to cajole into showing me some medicated gauze desert their posts simultaneously to gather about a motor-cyclist in a muddy uniform who had dropped in to see his pals with tails from the front but after six months the pressure of normal appetites has begun to reassert itself and to shop is one of the normal appetites of woman i say shop instead of buy to distinguish between the dull purchase of necessities and the voluptuousness of acquiring things one might do without it is evident that many of the thousands now fighting their way into the great shops must be indulging in the latter delight at a moment when real wants are reduced to a minimum how else account for the congestion of the department store even allowing for the immense the perpetual buying of supplies for hospitals and workrooms the incessant stoking up of the innumerable centres of charitable production there is no explanation of the crowding of the other departments except the fact that woman however valiant however tried however suffering and however self-denying must eventually in the long run and at whatever cost to her pocket and her ideals begin to shop again she has renounced the theatre she denies herself the tea-rooms she goes apologetically and furtively and economically to concerts but the swinging doors of the department stores suck her irresistibly into their quicksand of remnants and reductions no one in this respect would wish the look of paris to be changed It is a good sign to see the crowds pouring into the shops again, even though the sight is less interesting than that of the other crowds streaming daily, and on Sunday in immensely augmented numbers, across the Pont Alexandre III to the great court of the Invalides, where the German trophies are displayed.

Here the heart of France beats with a richer blood, and something of its glow passes into foreign veins as one watches the perpetually renewed throngs, face to face with the long triple row of German guns.

there are few in those throngs to whom one of the deadly pack has not dealt a blow there are personal losses lacerating memories bound up with the sight of all those evil engines but personal sorrow is the sentiment least visible in the look of paris it is not fanciful to say that the parisian face after six months of trial has acquired a new character the change seems to have effected the very stuff it is moulded of as though the long ordeal had hardened the poor human clay into some dense commemorative substance i often pass in the street women whose faces look like memorial medals idealized images of what they were in the flesh and the masks of some of the men those queer tormented gallic masks crushed in and squat and a little satyr like look like the bronzes of the naples museum burnt and twisted from their baptism of fire but none of these faces reveals a personal preoccupation they are looking one and all at france erect on her borders even the women who are comparing different widths of valenciennes at the lace counter all have something of that vision in their eyes or else one does not see the ones who haven't

This was achieved by having a small tank in the front of the car that meant it could keep going when it was cut in half.

This then pulls up to the Pont Alexandre III, and that ends the car chase.

Seeing the assassins jumped onto a boat, Moore then crashes the wedding.

Well, I say Moore.