"I will, madame, and if le bon Dieu ever allows me that kick, rest assured it shall be a good one!" and he left us laughing, much comforted in his trouble. Though never out of the sight and sound of war, we had so far suffered but little in the city itself. We watched with curiosity the English intrenching themselves on the opposite heights of the Pointe de Levy, and there was much speculation among us as to their object. That the city would be bombarded was scouted as ridiculous; but one midnight towards the end of June we were awakened by the heavy booming of artillery, and rushed to our windows to see the heights of the Levy shore flashing with the explosions from the cannon, and the hill beneath us filled with a panting, terror-stricken crowd, laden with every conceivable description of household goods, clambering up past us to gain some corner of safety, while the flames from a shattered warehouse in the Basse Ville threw an ominous glare over the blackness of the river. War in its most terrifying guise was at our very doors, and had it not been for the heroic calmness of Mme. de Sarennes, we should probably have joined the distracted crowd in the streets. While affrighted women and children, and even men, rushed past in the wildness of their terror, filling the night with the clamour of despair, and exposing themselves to still greater dangers in their efforts to escape, she gathered her little household about her and set fear at defiance. Dressed with her usual care, she sate in the drawing-room with all the candles lighted, the shutters closed, and the curtains tightly drawn. There was not a trace more colour than usual in her fine, high-bred face, nor a quiver to her slender hands, nor a tremor in her voice as she repeated some familiar psalm, or led us in the prayers we offered unceasingly throughout the long night. Her calmness, superior to the alarm without, dominated over the more ignorant--she put away danger from before them--as her unshaken confidence in a high protection inspired the more courageous. But, for faint and stout hearted alike, it was a fearful night. For hours the great guns played without ceasing; at the nearer explosions the very rock on which the house was founded seemed loosened, and the effort to control ourselves and not leap to our feet with the terrified servants became such a strain on Angelique and myself that we dared not let our eyes meet, for fear of an outburst of tears. Some time during the night, at an unusual uproar in the street, Mme. de Sarennes sent one of the men-servants to the upper windows to discover its cause. In a few moments he returned with horror-stricken face--"O mon Dieu, madame! the Cathedral is on fire! We are lost!" At which, a wail of despair broke from us all. Angelique's head dropped on her mother's lap. "O ma mere! It was God's own house!" she sobbed.