helieu. I had gone back to it after
the exploration which I had thought it proper to make at several of the
quarters in insurrection, and I gave an account of what I had seen to my
colleagues. Madier de Montjau, who also arrived from the barricades,
added to my report details of what he had seen. For some time we heard
terrible explosions, which appeared to be close by, and which mingled
themselves with our conversation. Suddenly Versigny came in. He told us
that horrible events were taking place on the Boulevards; that the
meaning of the conflict could not yet be ascertained, but that they were
cannonading, and firing volleys of musket-balls, and that the corpses
bestrewed the pavement; that, according to all appearances, it was a
massacre,--a sort of Saint Bartholomew improvised by the coup d'etat;
that they were ransacking the houses at a few steps from us, and that
they were killing every one. The murderers were going from door to door,
and were drawing near. He urged us to leave Grevy's house without delay.
It was manifest that the Insurrectionary Committee would be a "find" for
the bayonets. We decided to leave, whereupon M. Dupont White, a man
distinguished for his noble character and his talent, offered us a
refuge at his house, 11, Rue Monthabor. We went out by the back-door of
Grevy's house, which led into 1, Rue Fontaine Moliere, but leisurely,
and two by two, Madier de Montjau with Versigny, Michel de Bourges with
Carnot, myself arm-in-arm with Jules Favre. Jules Favre, dauntless and
smiling as ever, wrapped a comforter over his mouth, and said, "I do not
much mind being shot, but I do mind catching cold."

Jules Favre and I reached the rear of Saint Roch, by the Rue des
Moulins. The Rue Veuve Saint Roch was thronged with a mass of affrighted
passers-by, who came from the Boulevards flying rather than walking. The
men were talking in a loud voice, the women screaming. We could hear the
cannon and the ear-piercing rattle of the musketry. All the shops were
being shut. M. de Falloux, arm-in-arm with M. Albert de Resseguier, was
striding down the Rue de Saint Roch and hurrying to the Rue Saint
Honore. The Rue Saint Honore presented a scene of clamorous agitation.
People were coming and going, stopping, questioning one another,
running. The shopkeepers, at the threshold of their half-opened doors,
asked the passers-by what was taking place, and were only answered by
this cry, "Oh, my God!" People came out of thei