trength over the high wall which
is on the left hand of the Court. That done, he rushes into the house.
There I distinctly hear him say to his wife, "The barricade is taken,
give me a _blouse_, they are at Montmartre. We are done for!" I think,
the porter must have made a mistake, and that the battery is not taken
yet, for I hear the whistling of a shell that, seems to come from
Montmartre. The deafening clamour on all sides redoubles, all the
separate noises seem to confound themselves in one ceaseless roar, like
the working of a million of hammers on a million of anvils. I can
scarcely bear it; my hands clutch the door-posts convulsively. I lean
out as far as I can, but see nothing but a company of soldiers preceded
by two gendarmes, who are entering the Court. They stop before the door
of the house. Several of them go in, and then I hear the sound of a door
suddenly opened and shut, and heavy steps on the wooden floor. I feel
myself trembling; this man they have come to arrest--are they going to
shoot him here, in his own apartment, before his wife? Thank God, no!
The two gendarmes reappear in the street holding the prisoner between
them; his hands are bound; the soldiers surround them, and they are
going to march away, when the man, lifting up his arms, cries fiercely,
"I have but one regret, that I did not blow up the whole of the
quarter." At this instant the window above is opened, and a woman with
grey hair leans out, crying, "Die in peace, I will avenge you!" At these
words the soldiers arrest their steps, and the two gendarmes re-enter
the house. They are going to take the wife prisoner after having taken
the husband. I fall back into a chair horrified; I shut my eyes not to
see, and I press my hands on my ears, not to hear the dreadful sound of
the musketry, but the horrible shrill noise is triumphant, and I hear it
all the same.

XCII.

Oh! those that hear it not, how happy they must be; they will never
understand how fearful this continuous, this dreadful noise is, and to
feel that each ball is aimed at some breast, and each shell brings ruin
in its train. Fear and horror wrings one's heart and maddens one's
brain. Visions pass before one's eyes of corpses, of houses crushing
sleeping inmates, of men falling and crying out for mercy! and one
feels quite strange to go on living among the crowds that die!

I have been out a little while, a ball whistled over my shoulder, and
flattened itself agains