CHAPTER XXI.

SAUVE QUI PEUT.

ES, truly there was something new' for
Clémence and for all of us to see within

the walls of Paris. Not flocks of sheep

and herds of cows, although these animals were still to be met with wherever a blade of grass remained. Cerise and I had become quite accustomed to meeting with them, and we not unfrequently had gone to see the cows being milked in the Jardin des Plantes.

It was a very pretty sight, and we came to have our favourites among the 'milky mothers,' and our friends among the peasants whose property they were, and who often insisted on handing us cups of the warm frothing milk au naturel, at the same time complimenting us so absurdly on the neatness of our chaussure, and the beauty of our glossy black hair, that we

lost much of their sweet offering in the excess of our laughter, shaking the white milk over our cups of thick earthenware, which it was no easy matter to get between our lips, and this caused still more laughter. In return for this pleasure, we brought some of the girls and herds presents of warm hoods, which we made by our machine; and some warm socks and mittens which mother kindly knitted for them.

'You will come with us to see our dear cows; is it not so, Clémence?' said Cerise, when we had finished our early dinner. 'They are so pretty, so gentle.'

'Not to-day, my dear. I have a greater wish to see the ramparts, and how we are prepared for the assault of our enemies.'

'Ah, yes; doubtless that will interest you; but there is time enough. Our fortifications are a perfect marvel-they terrify these Prussians,' I said.

Clémence shook her head gravely.

'Ah, you've not seen them, good friend,' I said; 'but wait a little. It needs only to see them, to understand how little we have to fear here inside.'

'Come on, then; let us see,' said Clémence. 'Let us walk through the bois : I am curious to see its disfigurements. I am sorry for it, and our animals of the Jardin d'Acclimation, which have been sold to the large butchery in the Champs Elysées.'

'Ah, is it true?' cried Cerise.

What a shame!'

'It is only a small part of what your friends of the Imperial Government have brought on us.'

'Hush, Clémence!' said Cerise, who always dreaded our words being overheard now; 'they were not my friends; and besides, it is all the fault of the Prussians this war-they gave the offence.'

'Yes,' I interposed, and they were so well prepared. It shows they did so on purpose.'

'And well the Emperor knew it,' replied Clémence, ' and therefore on his head is all the blame of our want of preparation.'

'Oh, no!' I cried indignantly; 'his Majesty had a splendid army. Do you not remember, Cerise, our seeing the troops march past us? How magnificent! how full of fire and energy! how well disciplined!'

'And how splendid the provision laid up for himself and his family in England, as the private papers left behind by him in the Tuileries testify! and yet there was no food ready for the poor soldiers, no supplies of any kind; and when our Garde-Mobile joined them, they did so without arms-without provision for their commonest needs,' said Clémence angrily.

'Oh, that was only when leaving Paris,' I said. At Châlons and other places on the route everything was ready for them.'

'Nothing was ready for them, I assure you, Aurée.

Have I not heard it from the lips of the sufferers themselves, or from the half-starved soldiers?'

'Impossible!' I cried. Surely enormous stores had been laid up for years, and fresh supplies poured in. What else were all the taxes for?'

'They may have been intended for the use of our army,' said Clémence quietly, 'but I have told you before now these moneys were spent by these Napoleons on themselves, and by the Imperial officials on their own families.'

'Oh, no! shame! shame! Don't speak so hardly of the unfortunate!' I cried angrily, for I felt ready to lift my hands and box her ears. 'It is cruel! it is mean it is unjust!'

'Softly, softly, Aurée my dear; you have been deceived, in common with the whole of our nation. This is why the glorious France now lies so low; this is why the eagle of Germany no longer flies at the crowing of the cock of France.'

'No, she does not lie low!' I said with fury; 'she is as great as ever. If our good Emperor and his troops have been betrayed by spies and false friends, it is a passing misfortune. France will rise greater than ever from this sorrow; she only hides behind this black cloud to shine out more brilliantly than ever. See what she does now; it is only through the open fields, deserted by the peasants, that these

modern Vandals march.

Strasbourg, for instance !'

Look at our cities! look at

'Which has surrendered some days ago,' observed Clémence, with provoking quietness.

'You dare to tell me this?' I exclaimed.

"T is only the truth,' she replied, 'notwithstanding all our cries of not one stone of our fortresses.'

We were near a bench, on which I threw myself, and, covering my face with my hands, I wept passionately.

'Poor child! she is over excited, over anxious,' said Cerise. 'You will excuse her, Clémence?'

'Yes, yes; I can excuse Aurée-I, who am as indignant, as much grieved, as humiliated as she is; but I see the cause of it all, and Aurée does not.'

'It is foolish also to speak of these things in the public walks,' said Cerise.

'Oh, it does not matter now; you know we are a free people now. We Republicans of France may speak as we will; our lips are our own at last. But come, we shall never arrive at the ramparts at this pace. Come, my friends!'

Then I dried my eyes, and laughed to see some children who were dressed in some old opera finery running after a woman who carried an infant in her arms, wrapped in a large shawl, and who was going to visit her husband out on the lines. Coming after her