We did not, as you may well imagine, attempt to sleep--a bed of wet straw
laid on the pavement of a church, filthy, as most French churches are,
and the fear of being assassinated, resisted every effort of nature
herself, and we were very glad when at the break of day we were summoned
to continue our journey. About eleven we entered Arras: the streets were
filled by idle people, apprized of our arrival; but no one offered us any
insult, except some soldiers, (I believe, by their uniform, refugees from
the Netherlands,) who cried, "a la Guillotine!--a la Guillotine!"
The place to which we were ordered had been the house of an emigrant,
now converted into an house of detention, and which, though large, was
excessively full. The keeper, on our being delivered to him, declared he
had no room for us, and we remained with our baggage in the court-yard
some hours before he had, by dislodging and compressing the other
inhabitants, contrived to place us. At last, when we were half dead with
cold and fatigue, we were shown to our quarters. Those allotted for my
friend, myself, and our servants, was the corner of a garret without a
cieling, cold enough in itself, but rendered much warmer than was
desirable by the effluvia of a score of living bodies, who did not seem
to think the unpleasantness of their situation at all increased by dirt
and offensive smells. Weary as we were, it was impossible to attempt
reposing until a purification had been effected: we therefore set
ourselves to sprinkling vinegar and burning perfumes; and it was curious
to observe that the people, (_all gens comme il faut_ [People of
fashion.
Pages:
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335