In the outer faubourgs much the same thing goes on, except where barricades are being built.

Round each of these there is always a crowd of men and women, apparently expecting the enemy to assault them every moment.

At the different gates of the town there are companies of Mobiles and National Guards, who sternly repel every civilian who seeks to get through them.

On an average of every ten minutes, no matter where one is, one meets either a battalion of Nationaux or Mobiles, marching somewhere.

The asphalt of the boulevards, that sacred ground of dandies and smart dresses, is deserted during the daytime.