the less real.

[Illustration: "OFTEN, TOO LITTLE TIME IS SPENT UPON THE
NAVE."--CARCASSONNE.]

On the evening of "the siege," a rare, great fete, the forces of the
Cadets with their lights and ammunition are in the "upper town", and
long before dark, their friends and every inhabitant of the country for
miles around have gathered in the houses which face the Cite, on the
bridges, and along the banks of the little Aude. As the sunlight fades
and the shadows creep along, a strange feeling of expectancy comes over
everybody, a hush, almost a dread of danger. The towers on the hill-top
loom dark against the sky and the battlements bristle in the moonlight,
no sound comes from the Cite, and it seems to lay in unconcerned
security. Memories of besieging armies which have vainly encamped in
this valley return to the traveller's mind, memories of the treacheries
of Simon de Montfort, and he wonders if any "crusading" sentinel ever
paced where he now stands watching along the Aude, if any spy or even
the terrible Simon himself had ever crept so near the walls to
reconnoitre. Suddenly every one is startled by the sound of distant
shots, which are repeated nearer the walls. Every one peers into the
darkness. There is no sign of life on wall or tower, the attacking force
must still be climbing the hill, out of range of the stones and burning
oil of the defenders. More shots are fired, and now there are answering
shots from the besieged; and so naturally does the din increase, that
one can follow, by listening, the progress of the attack and the slow,
sure gain of the invader. Some of the illusion of the anxiety and mental
tension which war brings, steals over the watching crowd, and they
breathlessly await the outcome of the struggle. The attacking party is
now seen under the walls--now on them--they throw wads of burning
cotton, which are at first extinguished. They still gain--they fire the
walls in several places; and the defenders, who can be seen in the
flashes of light, run frantically to the danger spots; but they are
gradually overcome, beaten back by the intensity of the heat. Flames now
burst forth from a tower; there is an explosion, and the fire curls and
creeps along the walls unchecked. Another explosion follows, another
burst of flames which soar higher and higher. The men of the Cite seem
still more frantic and powerless. All the towers now stand out in bold
relief,--as if they were just about to crumble into the