tre Francais, in the Empress's box, etc. At last
it was my turn. The 17th of May was the day of the grand concert at the
Tuileries.

Oh, my dear little baroness, what had become of you? Where were your
long soft muslin petticoats and your fine white satin corsets? Where
were your transparent linen chemisettes? Mme. General had coarse
petticoats of starched calico. Mme. General wore such a corset! Mme.
General had such a crinoline! My poor skirts of lace and satin were
abominably stiffened and tossed about by the hard crinoline hoops. As to
the basque, the strange thing happened that the basque of the little
baroness was much too tight for Mme. General at the waist, and, on the
contrary, above the waist it was--I really do not know how to explain
such things. At any rate, it was just the opposite of small, so much so
that it had to be padded. Horrible! Most horrible!

At ten that evening I was climbing for the second time the grand
staircase of the Tuileries, in the midst of a dense and ignoble mob. One
of the General's aides-de-camp tried in vain to open a passage.

"Room, room, for the wife of the General!" he cried.

Much they cared for the wife of the General! Great big boots trampled on
my train, sharp spurs tore my laces, and the bones of the corsets of
Mme. General hurt me terribly.

At midnight I returned to Mme. General's den. I returned in rags,
shreds, soiled, dishonored, and stained with wine, tobacco, and mud. A
hateful little maid brutally tore me from the shoulders of Mme. General,
and said to her mistress:

"Well, madame, was it beautiful?"

"No, Victoria," replied Mme. General, "it was too mixed. But do hurry
up! tear it off if it won't come. I know where to find others at the
same price."

And I was thrown like a rag on a heap of pieces. The heap of pieces was
composed of ball-dresses of the little baroness.

One morning, three or four days later, the aide-de-camp rushed in,
crying, "The Versaillists! The Versaillists are in Paris!"

Thereupon Mme. General put on a sort of military costume, took two
revolvers, filled them with cartridges, and hung them on a black leather
belt which she wore around her waist. "Where is the General?" she said
to the aide-de-camp.

"At the Tuileries."

"Very well, I shall go there with you." And on that she departed, with
her little gray felt hat jauntily tilted over her ear.

The cannonade and firing redoubled and came nearer. Evidently there was
fighting