such dangerous man as the innocent executant, the martinet, the person
of routine, the soldier stifled in his uniform. I saw Werder after the
capitulation. A little man, lean and bilious. Such was the opponent
who reversed for us successively, like the premisses of an argument,
the bank, the library, the art-museum, the theatre, the prefecture,
the arsenal, the palace of justice, not to speak of our churches. A
man like that was quite capable of replying, as he did, to a request
that he would allow a safe-conduct for non-combatants, that the
presence of women and children was an element of weakness to the
fortress of which he did not intend to deprive it.' The night
illuminated by our burning manuscripts was followed by the day which
witnessed the conflagration of the cathedral. Look at that noble
front, sir, contemplating us with the hoary firmness of six hundred
years! You would think it a sad experience to see it, as I have seen
it, crowned with flames which leaped up and licked the spire, while
the copper on the roof curled up like paper in the heat; and to hear,
as I heard, the poor beadles and guards, from the height of yonder
platform, calling the city to the aid of its cathedral. The next day
the mighty church, now so imperfectly restored, was a piteous sight.
The flames had gone out for want of fuel. We could see the sky through
holes in the roof. The organ-front was leaning over, pierced with
strange gaps; the clock escaped as by miracle; and the mighty saints,
who had been praying for centuries in the stained windows, were
scattered upon the floor. On the 25th the systematic firing of the
faubourgs began, and the city was filled with the choking smell of
burning goods: on the 28th the citadel was kindled."

[Illustration: BEAUTY'S QUINTESSENCE.]

"And what opposition," I naturally demanded, "were you able to make to