"The house ought to be guarded! These devils will be here
presently,--they are on the Avenue now."
"Good God! are you certain?"
"Certain."
"You may well be," said a third voice, as another step joined theirs.
"They are just above Thirtieth Street. I was coming down the Avenue, and
saw them myself. I don't know what my fate would have been in this
dress,"--Francesca knew from this that he who talked was of the police
or soldiery,--"but they were engaged in fighting a young officer, who
made a splendid defence before they cut him down; his courage was
magnificent. It makes my blood curdle to think of it. A fair-haired,
gallant-looking fellow, with only one arm. I could do nothing for him,
of course, and should have been killed had I stayed; so I ran for life.
But I don't think I'll ever quite forgive myself for not rushing to the
rescue, and taking my chance with him."
She did not stay to hear the closing words. Out of the room, past them,
like a spirit,--through the broad halls,--down the wide stairways,--on
to the street,--up the long street, deserted here, but O, with what a
crowd beyond!
A company of soldiers, paltry in number, yet each with loaded rifle and
bayonet set, charged past her at double-quick upon this crowd, which
gave way slowly and sullenly at its approach, holding with desperate
ferocity and determination to whatever ghastly work had been employing
their hands,--dropped at last,--left on the stones,--the soldiers
between it and the mob,--silent, motionless,--she saw it, and knew it
where it lay.
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