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.