Perhaps it was not even noticed, for our mother, in spite of her violent headache, had to make preparations for the illumination of our tolerably long row of windows.

Not to have lighted the house would have imperilled the window-panes.

To my regret, we were not allowed to see the illumination.

I have since thought it a peculiarly amusing trick of fate that the palace of the Russian embassy--the property of the autocrat Nicholas--was obliged to celebrate with a brilliant display of lights the movement for liberty in a sister country.
On Monday, the 20th, we were sent to school, but it was closed, and we took advantage of the circumstance to get into the heart of the city.
The appearance of the town-hall peppered with balls I have never forgotten.

Most of the barricades were cleared away; instead, there were singular inscriptions in chalk on the doors of various public buildings.
At the beginning of Leipzigstrasse, at the main entrance of the Ministry of War, we read the words, "National Property." Elsewhere, and particularly at the palace of the Prince of Prussia, was "Property of the Citizens" or "Property of the entire Nation." An excited throng had gathered in front of the plain and simple palace to whose high ground-floor windows troops of loyal and grateful Germans have often looked up with love and admiration to see the beloved countenance of the grey-haired imperial hero.