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Yesterday afternoon I drove over as much of the city already in the occupation of the Versaillists as was consistent with safety. Following the Boulevard Clichy in order to avoid the chaînes in the neighbourhood of the Madeleine, I passed the scenes of terrible fighting.
In the streets traces of the conflict between the Versaillists and the Communards were everywhere visible.
And I was thrown like a rag on a heap of pieces. The heap of pieces was composed of ball-dresses of the little baroness. One morning, three or four days later, the aide-de-camp rushed in, crying, "The Versaillists! The Versaillists are in Paris!" Thereupon Mme.