It was too late to do anything that evening, and I went to mass as
early as I could in the morning, that the streets might be quiet; and
when I rose from my knees I was accosted by a Sister of Charity who
told me that there was terrible need at the Hotel Dieu. Men were
continually brought in, shockingly injured in the street frays that
were constantly taking place, and by the violences of the band of
robbers and bravoes with whom the Duke of Orleans surrounded his
carriage, and there was exceedingly little help and nursing for them,
owing to the absence of the Queen, and of so many of the great ladies
who sometimes lavished provisions, comforts, and attendance on the
patients.
I had three hours to spare before any one would be up, so I went
home, got together all the old linen and provisions I could muster,
told my sister where I was going, and caused my chairmen to carry me
to the hospital. The streets were perfectly quiet then, only the
bakers' boys running about with their ells of bread, the water-
carriers and the faggot-men astir, and round the churches a few women
hurrying to their prayers, looking about as if half dreading a
tumult.
Poor people! I had never seen the hospital so full, or in so sad a
condition. The Sisters and the priests of St. Lazare were doing
their utmost, and with them a very few ladies. I had staid long
enough to fear that I must be needed at home when I saw another lady
coming to take my place, and recognized Madame Darpent.
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