Therefore we decided to abolish the liveries for the future. When we reached home we found that we were one horse less, the Communards having taken it out of the stables without further ado than a mild protest from the frightened _concierge_. The Comité de Transport promised to return the horse when no longer needed. [Illustration: RAOUL RIGAULT] _March 31st._ DEAR MAMA,--Mr. Moulton thought it better that I should leave Paris. But to leave Paris one must have a passport from the Prefect of Police. He consulted Mr. Washburn about it, who not only consented to give me a card of introduction to Raoul Rigault (whom he knew personally), but offered to send me to the prefecture in his own carriage. This morning at eleven the carriage was at the door, and with it the promised card of introduction. I noticed that the coachman had no livery, nor did he wear the cockade of the Legation; neither was there any servant. I suppose Mr. Washburn thought it safer for us to drive through the streets without creating any unnecessary notice or running the risk of being insulted. Mademoiselle W---- accompanied me, and with her the omnipresent bag filled with chocolates, bonbons, etc., for any unforeseen event. On our way she discoursed on the manner one ought to treat _ces gens- là_. One should (she said) not _brusquer_ them, nor provoke them in any way, but smile kindly at them and _en générale_ be very polite. I don't know how many times I had to pull out my _billet de circulation_ before we reached the prefecture. It was a long time since I had been down the Rue de Rivoli, and I was disgusted when I saw the half-clad half-starved soldiers, in their dirty boots and down-trodden shoes, slouching about with their torn uniforms and carrying their rusty guns any which way. At last we arrived, and we were about to descend from the carriage, when a ragamuffin of a Communist, shouldering his gun and looking all-important, sprang forward to prevent us; but on showing my "billet," he nodded his head, saying, "C'est bien." At the mere sight of him Mademoiselle W---- said, "Don't you think, _chère Madame_, that it is better to return home?" I answered: "Nonsense! Now that we are here, let us go through with it." A few steps farther an awkward soldier happened to drop his gun on the pavement. At the sound of this, poor Mademoiselle W---- almost sank on her knees with fright. The small gate next to the large iron one was opened, and we entered the courtyard. This was filled with soldiers. A sentinel stood before the door of the large corridor which led to the Prefect's office. Inside this room stood a guard, better dressed and seemingly a person of more importance. On showing Mr. Washburn's card, I said to him that I had come here for the purpose of getting a passport, and would like to speak to Monsieur Rigault himself. We went toward the door, which he opened, but on seeing Mademoiselle W---- he stopped us and asked: "Who is that lady? Has she a card also?"