After the nocturnal visit by the Prussians I wanted to go to Saint Germain, but the road was not safe enough, so I took refuge with a good person living at Marly, near Mme. Du Barry's pavilion. Other women, frightened like myself, had already chosen this place. We all dined together and slept six in a room--as far as sleep was possible. The nights went by with continual alarms, and I felt the liveliest anxiety for my poor servant, to whom I owed my life. The faithful fellow had insisted on staying in my house to hold the soldiers in check. I had the greatest fears on his account, as the village was entirely given up to plunder. The peasants camped in the vineyards and slept on straw in the open air, after being robbed of all their possessions. Several of them sought us out, lamenting their misfortunes, and these mournful tales were recited in Mme. Du Barry's splendid garden, near the "Temple of Love," amid flowers and under the brightest of skies! I was so appalled by their stories and by the incessant cannonading and fusillading that one evening I attempted to go down into a cellar and stay there. But I hurt my leg, and was obliged to come up again. The last affair happened at Roquencourt. There was also fighting near Mme. Hocquart's house, very near the place where I was. We learned that after the combat the Prussians had sacked from top to bottom the house of a very Bonapartist lady, who during the fighting screamed from her terrace to the French, "Kill all those people!" The victors, having heard her, broke into the house, and smashed all the mirrors and the furniture as well, while the lady, in her chemise and without shoes, was fleeing to Versailles, where she found shelter.