couple of days previously, three delegates of the National Defence--two
septuagenarians and one sexagenarian, Cremieux, Glais-Bizoin, and
Fourichon--had repaired in order to take over the general government of
France. Lord Lyons had previously told Jules Favre that he intended to
remain in the capital, but I believe that his decision was modified by
instructions from London. With him went most of the Embassy staff, British
interests in Paris remaining in the hands of the second secretary, Mr.
Wodehouse, and the vice-consul. The consul himself had very prudently
quitted Paris, in order "to drink the waters," some time previously.
Colonel Claremont, the military attache, still remained with us, but by
degrees, as the siege went on, the Embassy staff dwindled down to the
concierge and two--or was it four?--sheep browsing on the lawn. Mr.
Wodehouse went off (my father and myself being among those who accompanied
him, as I shall relate in a future chapter) towards the middle of
November; and before the bombardment began Colonel Claremont likewise
executed a strategical retreat. Nevertheless--or should I say for that
very reason?--he was subsequently made a general officer.

A day or two before Lord Lyons left he drew up a notice warning British
subjects that if they should remain in Paris it would be at their own risk
and peril. The British colony was not then so large as it is now,
nevertheless it was a considerable one. A good many members of it
undoubtedly departed on their own initiative. Few, if any, saw Lord
Lyons's notice, for it was purely and simply conveyed to them through the
medium of _Galignani's Messenger_, which, though it was patronized by
tourists staying at the hotels, was seldom seen by genuine British
residents, most of whom read London newspapers.

The morrow of Lord Lyons's departure, Sunday, September 18, was our last
day of liberty. The weather was splendid, the temperature as warm as that