A soldier struck the barrels, and said laughingly,—­

“Here is something to make a fire with to-night.”

Another resumed,—­

“Which way have they gone?  They were at least thirty.  Let us search the houses.”

We heard one raising objections to this,—­

“Nonsense!  What do you want to do on a night like this?  Enter the houses of the ‘middle classes’ indeed!  There is some waste ground over yonder.  They have taken refuge there.”

“All the same,” repeated the others, “let us search the houses.”

At this moment a musket-shot was fired from the end of the street.

This shot saved us.

In fact, it was probably one of the two workmen who had fired in order to draw off their attention from us.

“That comes from over there,” cried the soldiers, “They are over there!” and all starting off at once in the direction from which the shot had been fired, they left the barricade and ran down the street at the top of their speed.

The last-maker and myself got up.

“They are no longer there,” whispered he.  “Quick! let us be off.”

“But this poor woman,” said I.  “Are we going to leave her here?”

“Oh,” she said, “do not be afraid, I have nothing to fear; as for me, I am an ambulance.  I am taking care of the wounded.  I shall even relight my candle when you are gone.  What troubles me is that my poor husband has not yet come back!”

We crossed the shop on tiptoe.  The last-maker gently opened the door and glanced out into the street.  Some inhabitants had obeyed the order to light up their windows, and four or five lighted candles here and there flickered in the wind upon the sills of the windows.  The street was no longer completely dark.

“There is no one about now,” said the last-maker; “but let us make haste, for they will probably come back.”

We went out:  the old woman closed the door behind us, and we found ourselves in the street.  We got over the barricade and hurried away as quickly as possible.  We passed by the dead old man.  He was still there, lying on the pavement indistinctly revealed by the flickering glimmer from the windows; he looked as though he was sleeping.  As we reached the second barricade we heard behind us the soldiers, who were returning.

We succeeded in regaining the streets in course of demolition.  There we were in safety.  The sound of musketry still reached us.  The last-maker said, “They are fighting in the direction of the Rue de Clery.”  Leaving the streets in course of demolition, we went round the markets, not without risk of falling into the hands of the patrols, by a number of zigzags, and from one little street to another little street.  We reached the Rue Saint Honore.

At the corner of the Rue de l’Arbre Sec the last-maker and I separated, “For in truth,” said he to me, “two run more danger than one.”  And I regained No. 19, Rue Richelieu.