“Then I bolted the doors, and fell down, weaker and more helpless than the children who crept around me, too frightened for crying. All day long, the howling of the mob, the shrieks of terrified negroes, and the rush of crowds, sweeping by on some errand of destruction, filled us with shuddering dread. When night came we were still alone, watchful and trembling with unutterable fear. I did not think it strange that my husband was absent. While there was a duty to perform, I knew that we need not hope to see him. But, oh, the suspense was terrible! “All night we waited and listened to the gathering storm, to the howlings of the mob, the startling crash of fire-bells, following close on each other, and the sharp shrieks of men and women, trampled under foot by the merciless rioters, whose fury it was my husband’s duty to quell. Oh, that was an awful night! At each sound my children would creep closer to me, and while the heart quivered in my bosom, I tried to comfort them. “Toward morning, a messenger came from my husband. He was still at his post, and might not be able to leave it that day. We must keep bravely up, and remain quiet, otherwise his mind would be so distracted that it might be hard to go through what lay before him. “I learned from the messenger that Leonard had tasted no food since morning, and hastily gathered up what there was cooked in the house. I sent it to him with the children’s love. Of course, we would be brave and quiet, I said. He must not care for us. I would mind the children, if God would only take care of him. I said this bravely, but my heart quailed within me as I spoke. “The messenger promised to come back in an hour or two, and we waited for him with growing terror, for the crash of the fire-bells was perpetual now. All around us, red tongues of flame were shooting up through burning roofs, and the streets were full of straggling rioters, with the plunder of sacked homes on their backs; some of them reeling with intoxication, and cursing everything they met, as men and women cursed each other around the guillotines of Paris, and in the slaughter of the communes. These sights kept me at the window. An awful fascination drew me toward the street whenever a fresh mob came crowding along it. How did I know that he might not be there struggling against the stormy passions that filled the city with smoke and thunder.