some on the grass. The children took fright from them, and began to cry
too. What was to become of us? I looked round upon this crowd with
despair in my heart. It was I to whom every one would look--for lodging,
for direction--everything that human creatures want. It was my business
to forget myself, though I also had been driven from my home and my
city. Happily there was one thing I had left. In the pocket of my
overcoat was my scarf of office. I stepped aside behind a tree, and took
it out, and tied it upon me. That was something. There was thus a
representative of order and law in the midst of the exiles, whatever
might happen. This action, which a great number of the crowd saw,
restored confidence. Many of the poor people gathered round me, and
placed themselves near me, especially those women who had no natural
support. When M. le Curé saw this, it seemed to make a great impression
upon him. He changed colour, he who was usually so calm. Hitherto he had
appeared bewildered, amazed to find himself as others. This, I must add,
though you may perhaps think it superstitious, surprised me very much
too. But now he regained his self-possession. He stepped upon a piece of
wood that lay in front of the gate. 'My children'--he said. But just
then the Cathedral bells, which had gone on tolling, suddenly burst into
a wild peal. I do not know what it sounded like. It was a clamour of
notes all run together, tone upon tone, without time or measure, as
though a multitude had seized upon the bells and pulled all the ropes at
once. If it was joy, what strange and terrible joy! It froze the very
blood in our veins. M. le Curé became quite pale. He stepped down
hurriedly from the piece of wood. We all made a hurried movement farther
off from the gate.

It was now that I perceived the necessity of doing something, of getting
this crowd disposed of, especially the women and the children. I am not
ashamed to own that I trembled like the others; and nothing less than