footways covered with promenaders as the _cortege_ went by, the escort
singing now the "Marseillaise" and now the "Chant du Depart," whilst on
every side shouts of "Vive Victor Hugo!" rang out as enthusiastically as
if the appointed "Saviour of Paris" were indeed actually passing. More
than once I saw the illustrious poet stand up, uncover, and wave his hat
in response to the acclamations, and I then particularly noticed the
loftiness of his forehead, and the splendid crop of white hair with which
it was crowned. Hugo, at that time sixty-eight years old, still looked
vigorous, but it was beyond the power of any such man as himself to save
the city from what was impending. All he could do was to indite perfervid
manifestoes, and subsequently, in "L'Annee terrible," commemorate the
doings and sufferings of the time. For the rest, he certainly enrolled
himself as a National Guard, and I more than once caught sight of him
wearing _kepi_ and _vareuse_. I am not sure, however, whether he ever did
a "sentry-go."

It must have been on the day following Victor Hugo's arrival that I
momentarily quitted Paris for reasons in which my youthful but precocious
heart was deeply concerned. I was absent for four days or so, and on
returning to the capital I was accompanied by my stepmother, who, knowing
that my father intended to remain in the city during the impending siege,
wished to be with him for a while before the investment began. I recollect
that she even desired to remain with us, though that was impossible, as
she had young children, whom she had left at Saint Servan; and, besides,
as I one day jocularly remarked to her, she would, by staying in Paris,
have added to the "useless mouths," whose numbers the Republican, like the
Imperial, Government was, with very indifferent success, striving to
diminish. However, she only quitted us at the last extremity, departing on
the evening of September 17, by the Western line, which, on the morrow,
the enemy out at Conflans, some fourteen miles from Paris.