e that men had been at work all night in the
neighbourhood of the Hotel de Ville, and that the streets adjoining it
were blocked with barricades. But in fact no one knows anything, except
that there is fighting in Neuilly, that the "Royalists" have attacked,
and that "our brothers are being slaughtered." A few groups are
assembled in the Place de la Concorde. I approach, and find them
discussing the question of the rents,--yes, of the rents! Ah! it is
certain those who are being killed at this moment will not have to pay
their landlord. On reaching the Rond Point I can distinctly perceive a
compact crowd round the Triumphal Arch, and I meet some tired National
Guards who are returning from the battle. They are ragged, dusty, and
dreary. "What has happened?"--"We are betrayed!" says one.--"Death to
the traitors!" cries another.

No certain news from the field of battle. A runaway, seated outside a
cafe amidst a group of eager questioners, recounts that the barricade at
the Neuilly bridge has been attacked by _sergents de ville_ dressed as
soldiers, and Pontifical Zouaves carrying a white flag.--"A
parliamentary flag?" asks some one.--"No! a royalist flag," answered the
runaway.--"And the barricade has been taken?"--"We had no cartridges; we
had not eaten for twenty-four hours; of course we had to decamp."

Farther on a soldier of the line affirms that the barricade has been
taken again. The cannon roars still. Mont Valerien is firing, it is
said, on the Courbevoie barracks, where a battalion of Federal guards
was stationed yesterday.--"But they were off before daybreak," adds the
soldier.

As I continue my road the groups become more numerous. I lift my head
and see a shell burst over the Avenue of the Grande Armee, leaving a
puff of white smoke hanging for a few seconds like a cloud-flake
detached by the wind.

On I go still. The height on which the Arc de Triomphe stands is covered
with people; a great many women and children among them. They are
mounted on posts, clinging to the projections of the Arch, hanging to
the sculpture of the bas-reliefs. One man has put a plank upon the tops
of three chairs, and by paying a few _sous_ the gapers can hoist
themselves upon it. From this position one can perceive a motionless,
attentive crowd reaching down the whole length of the Avenue of the
Grande Armee, as far as the Porte Maillot, from which a great cloud of
white smoke springs up every moment followed by a violent exp