As none of the men offered to undertake this action, she is now considered little less than an amazon, and her _amour-propre_ being excited by the commendations bestowed on her courage, she declares that she will go forth for all that may be required, as she despises fear.
We have now entrenched ourselves in the front drawing-rooms, with the external shutters, which are stuffed to exclude noise, closed, but which we open occasionally, in order to see what is going on.

Sitting in darkness, with the sound of firing, and the shouts of the people, continually in our ears, I can hardly bring myself to think that all that is now passing is not a dream.
The populace, ten minutes ago, rushed from the Rue St.-Honore towards the Champs-Elysees, assailing the troops stationed in the latter place; and were in turn assailed by these last, and forced to retreat to the Rue St.-Honore.

The scene was one of the utmost confusion.
The firing is going on; stragglers are rushing to and fro; a body of troops are stationed at the bottom of this street, and some pieces of cannon have been placed.

A thousand rumours are afloat, each more improbable than the other.

One moment it is announced that several regiments have fraternized with the people; another, that the royal family have fled to Belgium; the next, that Paris is to be fired by the insurgents; but it would be impossible to repeat one-half the wild rumours in circulation.
There is a mixture of the sublime and of the ridiculous in the scenes now passing before my eyes that is quite extraordinary.