the Tuileries. Mortal man was never under such temptation
to steal as I was--just one fifteenth-century poignard as a souvenir--from
that Museum--in fact, it was my _duty_ at that instant to do so,
whispered the tempter in my ear. But I resisted; and lo! it came to pass
in later years that I became possessed, for a mere trifle, in Dresden, of
the court dagger, in exquisite carved ivory, which was originally made
for Francis II. of France, and which has been declared by competent
authority to be authentic. Owing to his short reign there are very few
relics of this monarch.

Some of the blackguards in the mob drew out the royal carriages, set fire
to them, and rolled them gaily along the _quai_.

A noble-looking very old gentleman in military costume spoke to me before
the Tuileries, and saying that he had seen all of the old Revolution and
Napoleon's wars, actually with tears in his eyes implored me to use my
influence to prevent any plundering. "_Respectez la properte_." There
were very few gentlemen indeed among the insurgents. I only observed two
or three in our quarter, and they were all from our hotel, or rather
lodgings. But the next day every swell in Paris came out as an
insurgent. _They_ had all worked at barricades--so they said. I
certainly had not seen any of them at work.

That afternoon I strolled about with Field. We came to a barricade. A
very pretty girl guarded it with a sword. She sternly demanded the
parole or countersign. I caught hold of her and kissed her, and showed
my pistols. She laughed. As I was armed with dirk and pistols, wore a
sash, and was unmistakably a Latin Quarter _etudiant_, as shown by long
hair, rakish cap on one side, red neck-tie, and single eyeglass, I was
everywhere treated as a man and brother, friend and equal, warrior,
and--by the girls--almost like a first-cousin. Field shared the glory,
of course. And we made a great deal out of it, and were thought all the
more of in consequence. _Vive la jeunesse_!

Coming to a corner, we heard three or four musket-shots. We turned the
corner, and saw a man lying dead or dying in the last quiver, while at
his head there was at once placed a stick with a paper on it, on which
was written with lead-pencil, "_Mort aux voleurs_!"

The day before, one insurgent had offered me a beautiful old
silver-mounted sword for one of my pistols, fire-arms being so much in
demand, but I declined the offer.

The day after, I went