Several voices
rose and I saw bayonets thrust into his body. Then they came to me.
Bayonets were already flashing above me, I instinctively thrust out my
hands in defense, an officer cried: 'Halt!' approached me, and asked
who I was. I said as quickly as my mortal fright would permit, that I
was a Swiss, a pupil of the _Ecole Centrale_, lived in the Passage
Saumon, had accidentally entered the street and been wounded by a shot.
The officer looked at my hands, they were not blackened by powder. The
light of the lanterns was cast around--I lay in my own blood, but no
weapon was near. 'Where is your hat?' asked the officer. 'I wore none
when I left home.' 'That is suspicious,' he said, to my terror, but
after a moment's reflection, which to me seemed an eternity, gave
orders that I should be placed in a vegetable dealer's cart, which had
been abandoned by the owner, and taken to a hospital. Four soldiers
flung me roughly into the vehicle and dragged me to the Hotel Dieu."
He paused in his narrative.
Pauline looked at him and her eyes filled with tears.
"If I could tell you how I passed that night! You had scarcely gone
out, when the concierge rushed into the room, panting: 'Mademoiselle
Pauline! Mademoiselle Pauline! They have just shot our Monsieur
Rudolf and carried him off.
Pages:
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207