the National Guards in front of the Restaurant Gilet, making their soup on the side-walk.  I was too far away to judge of the extent of the mischief done by the cannonading, but I was told that several roofs had fallen in and many walls had been thrown down in that quarter.  All that I could see of the market-place was empty; but the sound of musketry, and the smoke which issued from the houses on one side of it, told me that the Federals were there in sufficient numbers.  A little further on I saw the barrels of the rifles sticking out of the windows, with little wreaths of smoke curling out of them; small knots of armed men every now and then marched hurriedly across the avenue, and disappeared into the opposite houses.  Partly on account of the distance, and partly on account of the blinding sun, and partly, perhaps, on account of the emotion I experienced, which made me desire and yet fear to see, I could distinguish the bridge but indistinctly, with the dark line of a barricade in front of it.  What surprised me most in the battle which I was busily observing, was the extraordinarily small number of combatants that were visible, when suddenly—­it was about two o’clock in the afternoon—­the Versailles batteries at Courbevoie, which had been silent for some time, began firing furiously.  The horrid screech of the mitrailleuse drowned the hissing of the shells; the whole breadth of the long avenue was covered by a kind of white mist.  The bastion in front of me replied energetically.  It seemed to me as if the interior part of my ear was being rent asunder, when suddenly I heard a dull heavy sound, such as I had not heard before, and I felt the house tremble beneath me.  Loud cries arose from the National Guards on the ramparts.  I fancied that a rain of shot and shell had destroyed the drawbridge of the Porte Maillot; but it was not so; in the distance I saw that the clouds of smoke were rolling nearer and nearer, and that the roar of the musketry, which had greatly increased, sounded close by.  I felt sure that a rush was being made from Courbevoie—­that the Versaillais were advancing.  The shells were flying over our heads in the direction of the Champs Elysees.  I began to distinguish that a tumultuous mass of human beings were marching on in the smoke, in the dust, in the sun.  The guns on the bastion now thundered forth incessantly.  There was no mistaking by this time, there were the Versaillais; I could see the red trowsers of the men of the line.  The Federals were shooting them down from the windows.  Then I saw the advanced guard stop, hesitate beneath the balls which seemed to rain on them from the Place du Marche, and presently retire.  Whereupon a large number of Federals poured forth from the houses, and, walking close to the walls, to be as much as possible out of the way of the projectiles, hurried after the retreating enemy.  But suddenly, when they had arrived a little too far for me to distinguish anything very clearly, they in their turn came to a standstill, and then retraced their steps, and returned to their positions within the houses.  The fire from the Versaillais then sensibly diminished, but that of the bastions continued its furious attack.  It was thus that I witnessed one of those chasse-croises under fire, which have become so frequent since this dreadful civil war was concentrated at Neuilly.