ruins. They were of all
ages, grades, and uniforms,--boys of fifteen and old men, general
officers covered with gold lace, and beggars in rags: Avengers of
Flourens, Children of Pere Duchene, Chasseurs and Zouaves, Lascars,
Turcos, and Hussars. We halted a little farther in the city. We
were very hungry, but all the shops were closed. I got some milk,
but some of my comrades, who wanted wine, made a raid into the
cellar of an abandoned house, and were jumped upon by an immense
negro dressed like a Turco, whom they took for the devil. Glad as
we all were to be in Paris, the sight as we marched on was most
melancholy. Fighting seemed going on in all directions, especially
near the Tuileries and the Place de la Concorde. The Arch of Triumph
was not seriously injured. On the top of it were two mortars, and
the tricolored flag had been replaced by the _drapeau rouge_.
Detachments were all the time passing us with prisoners. They were
thrust for safe-keeping wherever space could be found. I am sorry
to say that they were cruelly insulted, and, as usual, those who
had fought least had the foulest tongues. There was one party of
deserters still in uniform, with their coats turned inside out. I
saw one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen, among the prisoners.
She was about fourteen, dressed as a _cantiniere_, with a red scarf
round her waist. A smile was on her lips, and she carried herself
proudly.

"That morning, May 22, I saw nobody shot. I think they wanted to
take all the prisoners they could to Versailles as trophies of
victory. About one o'clock we received orders to march, and went
down the Boulevard Malesherbes. All the inhabitants seemed to be at
their windows, and in many places we were loudly welcomed. It was
strange to me to be marching with arms in my hands, powder-stained
and dirty, along streets I had so often trodden gay, careless, and
in search of pleasure.

"On the march we passed the Carmelite Convent, where my sister
was at school; and as we halted, I was able to run in a moment and
see her. Only an hour or two before; the nuns had had a Communist
picket in their yard.

"We marched on to the Parc Monceau [once Louis Philippe's private
pleasure-garden]. There our men were shooting prisoners who had
been taken with arms in their hands. I saw fifteen men fall,--and
then a woman.

"That night volunteers were called for to defend an outlying barricade
which had been taren from the insurgents, and of wh