My companion left me on the Boulevards, and I proceeded towards the Porte St. Denis where there was evidently something like a contest.  There was a little firing, and I met one or two wounded men, who were retiring to their casernes. One was shot through the body.  But the affair at the Porte St. Denis proved to be nothing serious, and was soon over.  The revolters had retired into the Rue St. Mery, where they were closely encircled by large bodies of troops, and whither I did not deem it prudent to follow them.  The struggle, in that direction, was much sharper, and we occasionally heard cannon.

You will probably be curious to know if one did not feel uneasy, in walking about the streets of a town, while so many men were contending in its streets.  A moment’s reflection will show you that there was little or no danger.  One could find a cover in a moment.  The streets were thronged, and it was little probable that either party would wantonly fire on the mass.  The contest was confined to a particular part of the town, and then a man of ordinary discretion would hardly be so silly as to expose himself unnecessarily, in a quarrel with which he had no concern.  Women and children were certainly killed on this occasion, but it was probably under circumstances that did not, in the least, affect the great body of the inhabitants.

The cafes were frequented as usual, and a little distance from the scene of action, everything wore the air of an ordinary Sunday, on which the troops were to be reviewed.  The morning passed in this manner, when, about four o’clock, I again found myself at the Pont Royal, after paying a visit to the hotel.  Here I met two American friends, and we walked by the quay of the palace, towards the Pont Neuf.  The people were in a dense crowd, and it was even difficult to penetrate the mass.  Just before we reached the bridge, we heard shouts and cries of Vive le Roi, and presently I saw M. de Chabot-Rohan, the first honorary aide-de-camp, a gentleman whom I personally knew, and who usually led the cortege of the King.  It would seem that Louis-Philippe had arrived from the country, and had passed by the Boulevards to the Place de la Bastille, whence he was now returning to the Tuileries, by the quays.  His appearance in the streets, during such a scene, has been much lauded, and the firmness necessary to the occasion, much dwelt on in the papers.  A very timid man might certainly have been afraid to expose his person in this manner, but the risk was by no means as great as has been supposed.  The cortege was nowhere under fire, nor, but for, a few minutes, near the scene of action; and it was not easy to assassinate a man moving through streets that were filled with troops. Au reste, there is no reason whatever to suppose the King would not have behaved personally well, in far more critical circumstances.[10] The royal party passed into the Carrousel by the court of the Louvre, while we turned upon the bridge.