« [p. 285] I came on to this old-fashioned little town, where for such long years our exiled Stuarts held their Court. I did this because lodging at Versailles was out of the question. Not only the last bed, but I am disposed to think the last arm-chair, has long been appropriated. Everywhere the troops are encamped, and all day yesterday poured in the long stream of fugitives from Paris. […] [p. 286] St. Germain was almost as crowded as Versailles, and I esteemed myself very fortunate to secure a garret.
The terrace of St. Germain presented a strange and anomalous appearance. Eager faces were watching the white smoke from Valérien, and gazing over the magnificent panorama to the dark spot in the distance, which they knew was the site of the Arc de Triomphe, just over which I distinguished the peculiar ring of white smoke which is caused by the bursting of a shell in the air. At the same time, nurses were promenading with their little charges along the terrace, and ladies and gentlemen were strolling up and down, enjoying the glorious panorama and the delicious afternoon, as though men at a very few miles’ distance were not engaged in the mortal strife, and those little puffs of smoke were not the too sensible signs of the agony of civil war into which their country had been plunged. »