She had often repeated this
experiment. On this occasion she carried, besides, a little parachute,
ballasted by a firework terminating in a ball with silver rain. Site was
to launch this apparatus, after having lighted it with a _lance a feu_,
prepared for the purpose. She ascended. The night was dark. At the
moment of lighting the firework, she was so imprudent as to let the
lance pass beneath the column of hydrogen, which was escaping from the
balloon. My eyes were fixed on her. Suddenly an unexpected flash
illuminated the darkness. I thought it a surprise of the skilful
aeronaut. The flame increased, suddenly disappeared, and re-appeared at
the top of the aerostat under the form of an immense jet of burning gas.
This sinister light projected over the Boulevard, and over the quarter
Montmartre. Then I saw the unfortunate woman rise, twice attempt to
compress the orifice of the balloon, to extinguish the fire, then seat
herself in the car and seek to direct its descent; for she did not fall.
The combustion of the gas lasted several minutes. The balloon,
diminishing by degrees, continued to descend, but this was not a fall!
The wind blew from the northeast, and drove her over Paris. There were,
at that time, in the neighbourhood of the house No. 16 Rue de Provence,
immense gardens. The aeronaut might have fallen there without danger.
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