‘You are quite right,’ said Moritz, and left me on the spot.

I turned from these disagreeable encounters in the plague-stricken capital of the world to inquire the fate of my Dresden companions, for some of those with whom I was intimate had also reached Paris, when I called on Desplechins, who had painted the scenery for Tannhauser.  I found Semper there, who had, like myself, been deposited in this city.  We met again with no little pleasure, although we could not help smiling at our grotesque situation.  Semper had retired from the battle when the famous barricade, which he in his capacity of architect kept under close observation, had been surrounded. (He thought it impossible for it to be captured.) All the same, he considered that he had exposed himself quite sufficiently to make it state of siege and were occupying Dresden.  He considered himself lucky as a native of Holstein to be dependent, not on the German, but on the Danish government for a passport, as this had helped him to reach Paris without difficulty.  When I expressed my real and heartfelt regret at the turn of affairs which had torn him from a professional undertaking on which he had just started—­the completion of the Dresden Museum—­he refused to take it too seriously, saying it had given him a great deal of worry.  In spite of our trying situation, it was with Semper that I spent the only bright hours of my stay in Paris.  We were soon joined by another refugee, young Heine, who had once wished to paint my Lohengrin scenery.  He had no qualms about his future, for his master Desplechins was willing to give him employment.  I alone felt I had been pitched quite aimlessly into Paris.  I had a passionate desire to leave this cholera-laden, atmosphere, and Belloni offered me an opportunity which I promptly and joyfully seized.  He invited me to follow himself and his family to a country place near La Ferte-sous-Jouarre, where I could be refreshed by pure air and absolute quiet, and wait for a change for the better in my position.  I made the short journey to Rueil after another week in Paris, and took for the time being a poor lodging (one room, built with recesses) in the house of Monsieur Raphael, a wine merchant, close by the village mairie where the Belloni family were staying.  Here I waited further developments.  During the period when all news from Germany ceased I tried to occupy myself as far as possible with reading.  After going through Proudhon’s writings, and in particular his De la propriete, in such a manner as to glean comfort for my situation in curiously divers ways, I entertained myself for a considerable time with Lamartine’s Histoire des Girondins, a most alluring and attractive work.  One day Belloni brought me news of the unfortunate rising in Paris, which had been attempted on the 13th June by the Republicans under Ledru-Rollin against the provisional government, which was then in the full tide of reaction.  Great as was the indignation with which the news was received by my