I gazed about me and, in effect, recognised in this frightful,
devastated square in ruins a sort of spectre of the
Palais-Royal.

The fleeing men had vanished, I knew not whither.

I also would have fled. I could not. In the twilight I
saw a light moving about the cannon.

The square was deserted. I could hear cries of: "Run!
they are going to shoot!" but I could not see those who
uttered them.

A woman passed by. She was in tatters and carried a
child on her back. She did not run. She walked slowly.
She was young, cold, pale, terrible.

As she passed me she said: "It is hard lines! Bread is
at thirty-four sous, and even at that the cheating bakers
do not give full weight."

I saw the light at the end of the square flare up and
heard the roar of the cannon. I awoke.

Somebody had just slammed the front door.




IV. THE PANEL WITH THE COAT OF ARMS.