There is a well on the premises, certainly, but the water is so brackish that it is not drinkable; and that of the neighbouring rivulet, naturally foul, is now so impregnated with soap-suds, from the multitudes of washermen and washerwomen at work in it, that we are at a loss how to water our horses, for they won’t touch it. Bell (our adjutant) has just found us out, and communicated an order to remain harnessed and ready for an alert, as it is expected the enemy will attempt something during the night. The firing which we have heard these two days has proceeded from the Prussians having attempted to force the French lines; but they met with a more determined opposition than they expected, and kept fighting their way round to the right to a place called Argenteuil,[8] where, throwing a bridge over the Seine, they have crossed that river, and Bell says are at this moment in possession of St Cloud. So that Paris is, in a manner, invested. _July 4th._--Last night passed very tranquilly; and, _malgré_ our position, I never enjoyed a sounder sleep or woke more refreshed. If the French intended an attack, they thought better of it, and let us sleep quietly. We have had some visitors already this morning from some of the neighbouring bivouacs. They tell us the Prussians are reported to have lost 15,000 men in the last three or four days’ fighting, and, what is more interesting, that the Duke, _en grande tenue_, and followed by a numerous retinue, also in their smartest uniforms, has just galloped down toward St Denis--that a rumour of negotiations is afloat, and not a word about advancing. Pretty mess, then, we are in. If this be true, we may stay in this mud-hole for a week yet. Fortunately for us, Dynely, who occupies a very fine house and garden a little way up the street, has a most abundant well of excellent water, to which he has given my people free access, although he guards it most jealously from everybody else. My poor horses suffered last night in getting no drink after their hot march.