and I (it is the mother who
writes) walking together. As we reached the Rue de Clichy, the
report of the cannon sounded close to our ears and made our hearts
sick, I assure you. The fighting was at the barrier Rochechouart,
a few streets off. All Saturday and Sunday we were a prey to great
alarm, there came so many reports that the insurgents were getting
the upper hand. One could tell the state of affairs from the
extreme quiet or the sudden hum in the street. When the news was
bad, all the houses closed and the people disappeared; when better,
the doors half opened and you heard the sound of men again. From
the upper windows we could see each discharge from the Bastille - I
mean the smoke rising - and also the flames and smoke from the
Boulevard la Chapelle. We were four ladies, and only Fleeming by
way of a man, and difficulty enough we had to keep him from joining
the National Guards - his pride and spirit were both fired. You
cannot picture to yourself the multitudes of soldiers, guards, and
armed men of all sorts we watched - not close to the window,
however, for such havoc had been made among them by the firing from
the windows, that as the battalions marched by, they cried, "Fermez
vos fenetres!" and it was very painful to watch their looks of
anxiety and suspicion as they marched by.
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