I hoped we should get a view of the mountains, but the sunset, though beautiful, was rather misty--however the coachman told us that meant fine weather for to-morrow which will be nice as we are going up on the top of the Cathedral. I was glad to have a little rest before dinner. I plunged again into my book, which is madly interesting--but such horrors--a long imprisonment like Silvio Pellico's was merciful compared to some of the tortures and cruelties--and it seems the Emperor himself was the hardest of all--never forgetting nor pardoning nor listening to any petition or prayer for mercy--no wonder the people were infuriated--mad with rage--women and children working at the barricades during the "five days"; and the old ones, too infirm to take an active part, at the windows pouring down boiling water and oil on the Austrian soldiers. However, I suppose it is the history of all street fighting. I remember the hideous tales they told us of the Paris Commune, when we went back there after the war--how maddened the Versaillais were at the shots, missiles and boiling water which came from all the windows upon them. The reprisals were terrible when the regular troops finally got the upper hand--and I suppose no one will ever know how many innocent people were shot in the first flush of success. I read out bits of my book to W. He said he didn't think the account exaggerated--of course they had chosen all the worst cases. He was at Versailles during the Commune, and saw the first batches of prisoners brought in--such awful looking people--many young, very young men, with wild reckless faces. They probably didn't know, half of them, what they had been fighting for--a vague idea of patrie and liberty, and the natural love of the Parisian gamin for a row and a barricade. _To H. L. K._ MILAN, HÔTEL DE VILLE, May 9, 1880. We have had an awful day, dear mother, pouring steady rain since early morning--clouds grey and low shutting out the city entirely; really so dark I could hardly see to dress--and the streets apparently deserted. W. didn't mind, and was off as usual to his coins at 9 o'clock. He did have a remords de conscience at leaving me all alone all day shut up in a little hotel salon, and said if I would come and get him about 3 we would try and see something.