h of the situation broke upon the empress, she was
very much frightened. Her dread was that she might be torn in pieces
by a mob that would invade the Tuileries. In a fortnight her fair
face had become haggard, and white streaks showed themselves in
her beautiful hair.

It is safest in such cases to trust foreigners rather than subjects.
Two foreigners occupied themselves with plans for the empress's
personal safety. The first idea was that if flight became inevitable,
she should take refuge with the Sisters of the Sacre Coeur, in their
convent in the Rue Picpus; and arrangements had been made for this
contingency.

The life of the empress was strange and piteous during her last
days upon the throne. She was up every morning by seven, and heard
mass. Her dress was black cashmere, with a white linen collar and
cuffs. All day she was the victim of every person who claimed an
audience, all talking, protesting, gesticulating, and generally
begging. The day the false rumor arrived that the Prussians had
been defeated at the Quarries of Jaumont she flew down to the
guard-room, where the soldiers off duty were lounging on their beds,
waving the telegram over her head.

The news of the capitulation at Sedan and of the decree deposing the
emperor, roused the Parisian populace. By one o'clock on September 5
the mob began to threaten the Tuileries. Then the Italian ambassador,
Signor Nigra, and the Austrian ambassador, Prince Richard Metternich,
insisted that the empress must seek a place of safety. As it was
impossible to reach the street from the Tuileries, they made their
way through the long galleries of the Louvre, and gained the entrance
opposite the parish church of Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois.[1] The
street was blocked with people uttering cries against the emperor.
A _gamin_ recognized the fugitives, and shouted, "Here comes the
empress!" De Nigra gave him a kick, and asked him how he dared to
cry: "Vive l'Empereur?" At this the crowd turned upon the boy,
and in the confusion the empress and her lady-in-waiting were put
into a cab, driven, it is said, by Gamble, the emperor's faithful
English coachman. If this were so, the empress did not recognize
him, for after proceeding a little way, she and Madame le Breton,
her companion, finding they had but three francs between them, and
dreading an altercation with the cabman if this were not enough
to pay their fare, got out, and proceeded on foot to the house of
the American