But the disease soon revived, and we heard of
rag-pickers having their baskets ransacked by zealous National Guards,
who imagined that these receptacles might contain secret despatches or
contraband ammunition. On another occasion _Le Figaro_ wickedly suggested
that all the blind beggars in Paris were spies, with the result that
several poor infirm old creatures were abominably ill-treated. Again, a
fugitive sheet called _Les Nouvelles_ denounced all the English residents
as spies. Labouchere was one of those pounced upon by a Parisian mob in
consequence of that idiotic denunciation, but as he had the presence of
mind to invite those who assailed him to go with him to the nearest
police-station, he was speedily released. On two occasions my father and
myself were arrested and carried to guard-houses, and in the course of
those experiences we discovered that the beautifully engraved but
essentially ridiculous British passport, which recited all the honours and
dignities of the Secretary of State or the Ambassador delivering it, but
gave not the slightest information respecting the person to whom it had
been delivered (apart, that is, from his or her name), was of infinitely
less value in the eyes of a French officer than a receipt for rent or a
Parisian tradesman's bill.
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