dissolution of society. No longer did any one feel safe. No one expected to see the next day. My own safety was most seriously compromised by an imprudent detail of costume. On the morning of the 11th I made the mistake of going out with my hair trimmed and gathered up with a comb. I had forgotten that this mode of wearing the hair formed part of the uniform of the Swiss Guards. This slight indication was sufficient for two or three hundred angry men to pounce upon me on the Boulevard de la Madeleine. I was unable to make myself heard, and so was dragged to the Place Vendôme, where the mob was stringing up to lamp-posts all the Swiss and other fugitives from the château they could lay their hands on.
"I was rescued by a little drummer of the precinct who recognised me. It was he who was in the habit of notifying me when it was my turn to go on guard duty, and as I never answered the call, I was in the habit of paying him somewhat liberally for finding a substitute for me. He fought his way into the midst of the raving horde, commanded silence by a vigorous beating of the drum, shouted that I was not a Swiss, and gave my name and place of residence. On the strength of his testimony I was escorted home in triumph."
