Ragaud told the women it was not the time for economy, and the following week he called in the painters and the masons to replaster all the house, and to give it an air of freshness inside, which, I must acknowledge, was very much needed. Jeannette directed the changes in Jean‐Louis’ room, and I can assure you she spared nothing, and spent at least fifty francs of her father’s crowns in a splendid paper for the walls, which was yellow, covered with large bouquets of bright flowers that had the most beautiful effect. The month of June found them busily occupied; and then they began to count, not the days, but the hours, that would separate Jean‐Louis from the dear home that had adopted him. His last letter announced his speedy departure. The joy at Muiceron, and its holiday look, was touching to see. Jeannette, pink and white, like an eglantine rose, had never looked prettier. Suddenly, one morning, M. le Curé entered the farm, and, in the midst of all this happiness, pronounced these terrible words: “My children, they are fighting in Paris, and we must pray to God, for the danger has never been greater; happy those who will come safe out of it!” XXI. I shudder when I speak of that horrible time. Alas! we all know about the fearful struggle of blood and tears called “The days of June, 1848.” Never did the lowering storm‐clouds more quickly burst, and never did a great city, in all the pride of her beauty and wealth, come nearer complete ruin. Each quarter, each place, each cross‐way, were battle‐ fields. Houses were demolished, that barricades might be erected across the streets; and this time, if extravagant accounts went abroad, not one appeared exaggerated in face of the real truth. For three long, weary days—why, no one ever knew—the army kept hidden; then the sovereign people were masters of the situation, and acted as best pleased their capricious will; and I rather think nobody but a fool could have helped being disgusted with serving such kings. At the end of these three days, at last the cry was heard from all the barracks, “Forward!” And as in the time of the great Napoleon, generals in fine uniforms and waving plumes dashed about on horseback, and there was a terrific noise of cannon and musketry. How terrible was the anger of the Lord! For these enemies, who grappled in the fierce death‐struggle, were children of the same mother, and yet forgot it in the midst of their senseless fury and thirst for vengeance, when, in truth, they had nothing to avenge. What more shall I tell you? You know it all better than I; perhaps you were there; and, besides, it is not so long ago that you cannot remember it; and when you recall it, pray fervently to the good God such a time may never again be ours.