ddiness, are
precipitated one after another. Each house is a fortress. Yesterday, the
_gendarmes_ had advanced as far as the market of Sablonville; this
morning they were driven back beyond the church. Upon this church, a
child; the son of Monsieur Leullier, planted a red flag amidst a shower
of projectiles. "That child will make a true man," said Cluseret, the
war delegate. Ah, yes! provided he is not a corpse ere then. Shots are
fired from window to window. A house is assaulted; there are encounters,
on the stairs; it is a horrible struggle in which no quarter is given,
night and day, through all hours. The rage and fury on both sides are
terrific. Men that were friends a week ago have but one desire--to
assassinate each other. An inhabitant of Neuilly, who succeeded in
escaping, related this to me: Two enemies, a soldier of the line and a
Federal, had an encounter in the bathing establishment of the Avenue de
Neuilly, a little above the Rue des Huissiers. Now pursuing, now flying
from each other in their bayonet-fight, they reached the roof of the
house, and there, flinging down their arms, they closed in a mad
struggle. On the sloping roof, the tiles of which crush beneath them, at
a hundred feet from the ground, they struggled without mercy, without
respite, until at last the soldier felt his strength give way, and
endeavoured to escape from the gripe of his adversary. Then, the
Federal--the person from whom I learnt this was at an opposite window
and lost not a single one of their movements--the Federal drew a knife
from his pocket and prepared himself to strike his half-prostrate
antagonist, who, feeling that all hope was lost, threw himself flat on
the roof, seized his enemy by the leg, and dragging him with him by a
sudden movement, they rolled over and fell on to the pavement below.
Neither was killed, but the soldier had his face crimsoned with blood
and dust, and the Federal, who had fallen across his adversary,
despatched him by plunging his knife in his chest.

Such is this infamous struggle! Such is this savage strife! Will it not
cease until there is no more blood to shed? In the meantime, Paris of
the boulevards, the elegant and fast-living Paris, lounges, strolls, and
smiles. In spite of the numerous departures there are still enough blase
dandies and beauties of light locks and lighter reputation to bring the
blush to an honest man's cheek. The theatres are open; "_La Piece du
Pape_" is being played.