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The men were terrible, in the bloody-minded anger with which they

looked from windows, caught up what arms they had, and came

pouring down into the streets; but, the women were a sight to

chill the boldest. From such household occupations as their bare

poverty yielded, from their children, from their aged and their

sick crouching on the bare ground famished and naked, they ran

out with streaming hair, urging one another, and themselves, to

madness with the wildest cries and actions. Villain Foulon taken,

my sister! Old Foulon taken, my mother! Miscreant Foulon taken,

my daughter! Then, a score of others ran into the midst of these,

beating their breasts, tearing their hair, and screaming, Foulon

alive! Foulon who told the starving people they might eat grass!

Foulon who told my old father that he might eat grass, when I had

no bread to give him! Foulon who told my baby it might suck

grass, when these breasts were dry with want! O mother of God,

this Foulon! O Heaven our suffering!