a vault of fire, while the constant discharge of all this
artillery was repeated by echoes from the cliffs, making a frightful din;
and, a most singular fact, no one in the city was alarmed. The people of
Boulogne had become accustomed to danger, and expected something terrible
each day. They had constantly going on, under their eyes, preparations
for attack or defense, and had become soldiers by dint of seeing this so
constantly. On that day the noise of cannon was heard at dinner-time;
and still every one dined, the hour for the repast being neither advanced
nor delayed. Men went about their business, women occupied themselves
with household affairs, young girls played the piano, all saw with
indifference the cannonballs pass over their heads; and the curious, whom
a desire to witness the combat had attracted to the cliffs, showed hardly
any more emotion than is ordinarily the case on seeing a military piece
played at Franconi's.

I still ask myself how three vessels could have endured for nine hours so
violent a shock; for when at length the flotilla entered the fort, the
English cutter had foundered, the brig had been burnt by the red-hot
cannon-balls, and there was left only the frigate, with her masts
shivered and her sails torn, but she still remained there immovable as a
rock, and so near to our line of defense that the sailors on either side
could be seen and counted. Behind her, at a modest distance, were more
than a hundred English ships.

At length, after ten o'clock, a signal from the English admiral caused
the frigate to withdraw, and the firing ceased. Our line of ships was
not greatly damaged in this long and terrible combat, because the
broadsides from the frigate simply cut into our rigging, and did not
enter the body of our vessels. The brig and the cutter, however, did
more harm.

CHAPTER XIII.

The First Consul left Boulogne to return to Paris, in order to be present
at the marriage of one of his sisters. Prince Camille Borghese,
descendant of the noblest family of Rome, had already arrived at Paris
to--marry Madame Pauline Bonaparte, widow of General Leclerc, who had
died of yellow fever in San Domingo. I recollect having seen this
unfortunate general at the residence of the First Consul some time before
his departure on the ill-starred expedition which cost him his life, and
France the loss of many brave soldiers and much treasure. General
Leclerc, whose name is now almost forgotten, or