Our night had been
disturbed by the continuous rumble of carts and carriages.

"Is it a fine day for the banquet?" I heard Amy say as our maid opened
her windows on Tuesday morning.

"There is to be no banquet," was the answer. "_Voyez done_ the
proclamation posted on the door of the barrack at the corner of the Rue
Chaillot."

I sprang from my bed and looked out of my window. A strange change had
taken place in the teeming little caserne at the corner. Instead of the
usual groups of well-behaved boy-soldiers in rough uniforms, the barrack
looked deserted, and its lower windows had been closed up to their top
panes with bags of hay and mattresses. Not a soldier, not even a sentry,
was to be seen.

I dressed myself and went out to collect news. The carts that had
disturbed us during the night had been not only employed in removing all
preparations for the banquet, but in taking every loose paving-stone out
of the way. I found the Place de la Madeleine full of people, all
looking up at the house of Odillon Barrot, asking "What next?" and "What
shall we do?" Odillon Barrot was the hero of the moment--literally _of
the moment_. In forty-eight hours from that time his name had faded from
the page of history. In the Place de la Concorde there was more
excitement, for threats were being made to cross the bridge and to
insult the Chambers. The Pont de l'Institut, notwithstanding the efforts
of the garde municipale or mounted police, was greatly crowded. A party
of dragoons, on sorrel ponies barely fourteen hands high, rode up and
began to clear the bridge, but gently and gradually. The crowd was
retiring as fast as its numbers would permit, when some of the municipal
guard rode through the ranks of the dragoons and set themselves, with
ill-judged roughness, to accelerate the operation. The crowd grew angry,
and stones began to be thrown at the guard and soldiers.

Growing anxious for the women I had left in the Rue Neuve de Berri, I
returned home by side-streets. A crowd had collected on the Champs
Elysees about thirty yards from the corner of our street, and was
forming a barricade. All were shouting, all gesticulating. Citadines at
full speed were driving out of reach of requisition; horses were going
off disencumbered of their vehicles; the driver of a remise was seated
astride his animal, the long flaps of his driving-coat covering it from
neck to tail; a noble elm was being hewn down by hatchets and even
common knive