THE RED 
 ^EPUBLIC
 
 i 1 
 
 f Jo 
 
 I Books Exchanged t 
 
 LOS ANGEU 
 

 
 The Red Republic 
 
 A Romance of the Commune 
 
 By ROBERT W. CHAMBERS 
 
 Author of Lorraine, " " The Maid at Arms, 
 
 The Conspirators, " " Maids of Paradise, 
 
 Etc. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1895 
 
 BY 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM S SONS 
 
 This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers 
 G. P. PUTNAM S SONS, NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 *Cbe Ikntcfeerbocfcer press, IRevc
 
 SRL8 
 URL 
 
 TO MY MOTHER.
 
 ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 
 
 THE author s acknowledgments are due to MM. 
 Philibert Audebrand, le Comte d He"risson, 
 Jules Clere, Ferdinand Dugue", and Charles 
 Virmaitre, for their valuable volumes ; also to " A 
 Proscrit of the Commune," for his " Truth about 
 the Commune." 
 
 The author has also made use of information vol 
 unteered by his revolutionary friends of Belleville, 
 La Villette, and the Faubourgs Montmartre and 
 St. Antoine ; but acknowledgements are especially 
 due to certain good comrades of the XIXe Arron- 
 dissement. 
 
 Through the kindness of Geo. Haven Putnam, the 
 author has been able to consult a copy of the official 
 records of the Commune. 
 
 Occasionally the author has deemed it best to 
 change the names of certain streets, and also of offi 
 cers and battalions. The separation of the romance 
 from the facts would leave the historical basis vir 
 tually accurate. 
 
 R. W. C.
 
 " Above the bayonets mixed and crossed 
 Men saw a gray gigantic ghost 
 Receding through the battle cloud, 
 And heard across the tempest loud 
 The death-cry of a nation lost ! "
 
 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CAF& CARDINAL. 
 
 LL Englishmen are pigs ! " observed a young 
 man who stood swaying in the doorway 
 of the Cafe Cardinal. Nobody replied to 
 this criticism. The cafe was full. The young man 
 advanced unsteadily to the centre of the long 
 room and looked about for a seat. His lustre 
 less eyes travelled from table to table until they 
 became fixed on a group of people in the embra 
 sure of one of the windows which opened on the 
 rue des Ecoles. Toward these people he shuffled, 
 but when he laid a heavy hand on the shoulder 
 of one, a woman, she cried out and shrank away. 
 A man sitting beside her started up angrily, but sat 
 down again when he saw who it was, and resumed 
 his jaunty air. 
 
 " It s Isidore Weser," he chuckled. 
 
 Room was made at the marble-topped table. 
 
 " Sit down, Isidore," said the jaunty man. " Your 
 legs seem very, very tired." 
 
 But Weser still stood swaying before the table, 
 3
 
 4 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 turning his eyes from one to another ; then he ad 
 dressed each in turn : " Bon jour, Faustine, bon 
 jour, Tribert, bon jour, Sarre, bon jour 
 
 " Sit down ! Sit down ! " said Tribert, impatiently. 
 
 Weser replied with a yell that drew the attention 
 of the whole caf. This seemed to be what he 
 wanted. " When I came in," he explained, " I made 
 a remark to which nobody paid the slightest atten 
 tion. I advanced a proposition which called for 
 comment. There was no comment." He paused, 
 fixing a glassy eye on Landes, who from a distant 
 table was looking curiously at him over the edge of 
 a newspaper. " I will repeat my remark," he re 
 sumed. " All Englishmen are pigs ! " 
 
 Landes half rose, hesitated a moment, and then 
 sat down again. This seemed to amuse the jaunty 
 man, whose name was Sarre. 
 
 " Certainly, Englishmen are pigs ! " he cried, drag 
 ging Weser into a chair beside him, " and Izzy has 
 religious scruples." His voice was perfectly audi 
 ble to every one in the cafe. Several people laughed. 
 Landes threw down his paper, and walked over to 
 the group at the window. 
 
 " My name is Philip Landes," he said, looking 
 straight at Sarre. " I am an American." 
 
 Sarre grinned, but before he could reply the girl 
 beside him cried : 
 
 " They all know you are an American, Monsieur 
 Landes. They mean you no discourtesy." 
 
 Sarre waved his hand jauntily. 
 
 "You must n t take offence. Weser s drunk, 
 is n t he, Tribert ? "
 
 THE CAF CARDINAL. 5 
 
 " All the same, I m not fond of Americans," said 
 Tribert, impudently. 
 
 " Shame ! " cried the girl. " I, Faustine Courtois, 
 say it. Pagot, Sarre, have you no excuse to offer 
 Monsieur Landes ? " 
 
 Pagot looked frightened, Sarre grinned, Georgias, 
 the Greek, sneered openly. Landes waited. 
 
 " Sarre," he said at length, " I am waiting for your 
 explanation." 
 
 " If I have said anything that might seem offen 
 sive, I am sorry, and withdraw it," grinned Sarre, 
 emphasizing each word with a pat of his hand on 
 his fat legs. 
 
 " And I," shouted Weser, struggling to his feet 
 " I tell you 
 
 " You tell me ! Canaille! " cut in Landes, coldly. 
 
 Tribert dragged Weser back into his chair, and 
 turned to meet the stern eyes of Landes. " / said 
 nothing," he muttered, shifting his glance. 
 
 " I m glad to hear it," said Landes. 
 
 At that moment a man approached the table, 
 nodded to everybody, and sat down. 
 
 "Bon jour, Raoul," grunted Tribert. 
 
 The other acknowledged the greeting and, drawing 
 a pair of glasses from a case, adjusted them and 
 looked up at Landes. "Ah," he said, "it s Mon 
 sieur Landes. What s the trouble? " 
 
 " Monsieur Landes thinks we are not polite 
 enough ! " chuckled Sarre. 
 
 " And he will instruct us perhaps," said Raoul 
 Rigault. 
 
 " If necessary," said Landes.
 
 6 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Rigault looked at him. " Americans are not fa 
 vorites in Paris," he said brusquely. 
 
 " That," replied Landes, " is of no consequence 
 to Americans." 
 
 " Who says Americans are not favorites in Paris ? " 
 demanded Faustine. " They are favorites with me." 
 
 Philip glanced at her kindly, but his eyes returned 
 directly to Rigault. Rigault drew a paper from his 
 pocket, and held it in his hand. 
 
 " Monsieur Landes," he began, " I have some 
 thing to say to you." 
 
 " Whatever you say, Rigault," Philip answered, 
 "don t forget that in the siege just over we Ameri 
 cans served with the ambulance corps and the 
 American Minister was the only foreign representa 
 tive in Paris who stuck to his post." 
 
 " Ah ! Yes ! The American Minister," said Rigault. 
 " You may as well know what we Parisians think 
 about your Minister 
 
 " I don t care a d n what you Parisians think 
 about our Minister," retorted Landes, " but I want 
 to know what you mean, you Raoul Rigault, and 
 you, Andre Sarre, both of you students of the Latin 
 Quarter, by insulting a fellow student, a member of 
 the Students Association ?" 
 
 " Monsieur is right," said a tall young artillery 
 officer at a neighboring table. 
 
 " What s that ? " cried Rigault. 
 
 The officer rose leisurely, buttoned his astrakhan- 
 trimmed dolman, and, picking up his sabre, snapped 
 the clasp to the short silver chain which dangled 
 from his sword belt. Then walking over to Landes,
 
 7 HE CAFE CARDINAL. J 
 
 he bowed, saying, " I, Monsieur, admire Americans," 
 and with a pleasant salute to Faustine, turned his 
 back on the rest and walked out. 
 
 Raoul Rigault s eyes glittered through his glasses. 
 " En voila un qu il faut saigner," he muttered. 
 
 Disgusted with the whole scene, Philip turned to 
 go also. Rigault sprang up and barred the way ; his 
 baby mouth under the thick, crisp beard looked 
 moist and venomous. He began, speaking slowly at 
 first, but before he had uttered half a dozen sentences 
 he was snarling, his cheeks purple and swollen, his 
 eyes growing paler and harder until they had lost 
 every vestige of color, and were nothing but a 
 malignant sparkle. 
 
 " You have been expelled from the Students As 
 sociation, Monsieur Landes," he began, " and for 
 this reason you are an American. We want no 
 Americans "- louder "and no Prussians," still 
 louder, " do you understand me?" Here he burst 
 into a roar. Sarre caught his arm. 
 
 " Give him the letter, Raoul," he said ; " don t 
 make a scene." 
 
 Raoul thrust the paper he had been holding at 
 Philip, who took it mechanically, but Rigault, shaking 
 off Sarre, went on violently : 
 
 " Your American Minister has taught us who are 
 our enemies ! your Minister Washburn 
 
 " Are you crazy ?" said Landes, astonished at this 
 outburst. 
 
 " Rigault is right," growled Tribert. 
 
 " Am I crazy ! " mimicked Rigault. " Do you want 
 proofs ? Did your Minister Washburn receive the
 
 8 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 American papers during the siege ? And did he 
 erase with ink everything in them that could be of 
 service to France before he would let them be seen 
 by us ? " 
 
 " He could not do otherwise," said Philip, gravely; 
 "a Foreign Minister could not distribute to the 
 garrison of a besieged town news which he was able 
 to receive only through the courtesy of the besiegers." 
 To cut short the violent and foolish scene, he would 
 have turned away once more, but Rigault drowned 
 his last words in a torrent of half-articulate blasphemy, 
 out of which came distinctly the words, " American 
 Minister, American students paid Prussian spies ! " 
 
 Without a sound, Landes sprang at him. Tribert 
 jerked Rigault back against the wall, and shoved 
 the table in front of him, while Monsieur Cardinal, 
 alarmed for the crockery in his cafe, threw his arms 
 around the American s waist, and shouted for the 
 police. Landes struggled, white with passion, over 
 turning tables and chairs, but Monsieur Cardinal 
 held fast, while Sarre and Pagot each draped himself 
 dver an arm. 
 
 " Raoul Rigault," he said, between his gasps, 
 " you lie ! Let me go, Monsieur Cardinal ! I will 
 not touch him here, let go, Andre Sarre, or I 11 
 break your neck. On my honor I won t touch him, 
 Monsieur Cardinal, not here, to-night, let me go, 
 I tell you ! " 
 
 "On your honor, Monsieur Landes?" whined 
 Cardinal. 
 
 " I said it," panted Landes. 
 
 They released him, and the tumult in the cafe
 
 THE CAFE CARDIiVAL. 9 
 
 died away as he took a step forward and faced 
 Rigault. 
 
 " I 11 break my cane over your head, when next 
 we meet, you mongrel liar ! Keep out of my way, 
 Sarre ! and you too, whatever your name is," turn 
 ing on Tribert, who scowled back in reply. " As 
 for this canaille you call Weser, and this Greek here, 
 who seems so ready with that thin knife he s just 
 slipped back into his pocket pfui ! " He made a 
 gesture of disgust, and walked out into the street, 
 trembling with excitement. 
 
 He crossed the Boulevard St. Michel, and enter 
 ing Ferdinand s ordered dinner, but when it was 
 brought he felt too upset to eat, and drawing out 
 the paper he had received from Rigault, he looked 
 at it. It bore the seal of the French Students Asso 
 ciation and was addressed : 
 
 MONSIEUR PHILIP LANDES, 
 Artiste Peintre, 
 
 Ecole des Beaux Arts, 
 
 En Ville. 
 
 The black-eyed waitress who had served him for 
 three years felt that something indeed serious must 
 be the matter, when a young man who has just been 
 through a siege of six months, living on government 
 demi-rations of horse meat and straw bread, reads a 
 letter before looking at the juicy Chateaubriand 
 which a black-eyed waitress sets before him. 
 
 "Are you ill, Monsieur Landes?" she inquired. 
 
 " No, oh, no," he replied, smiling. " I 11 eat 
 presently. Has Monsieur Ellice come in yet ? "
 
 IO THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Ellice entered as he spoke, with Ynes Falaise, and 
 Landes rose to welcome them. 
 
 " Bon soir, Mile. Ynes. Hello, Jack ! Sit down 
 here, I m just beginning." 
 
 Ynes seated herself with a graceful shake of her 
 fluffy skirts, and the two young men dropped into 
 chairs on either side of her. 
 
 " Well," said Ellice, after the dinner was ordered, 
 " any news ? " 
 
 " Nothing of interest," replied Landes, thinking 
 of the scene just past in the Cafe Cardinal. " What 
 do the evening papers say ? " 
 
 " Whatever they say, they don t say it in Eng 
 lish," observed Mile. Falaise, whom that language 
 bored. The young men laughed and begged her 
 pardon, then chatted on in French. 
 
 " They still keep talking about that mysterious 
 Central Committee," said Ellice. " What is the Cen 
 tral Committee, Ynes ? " 
 
 " Politics ! " cried the girl. " What a pity, before 
 dinner ! " 
 
 " Ynes is of Lewis Carroll s mind," said Ellice. 
 " Politics to-morrow, politics yesterday, but never 
 politics to-day." 
 
 " Then give me a glass of that Chambertin," she 
 said evasively, " and talk your politics by and by 
 with Monsieur Philip." 
 
 " I have heard of the Comite" Central every day 
 since the surrender," persisted Landes. " What is 
 it, anyway ? Who compose it ? " 
 
 " Do you know," interrupted Ynes, " that the 
 Prussians stole all the cuckoo clocks in the Champs 
 filysees quarter ? "
 
 THE CAFE CARDINAL. II 
 
 " Ah, bah ! " laughed Ellice. " Every one knows 
 they behaved themselves very well while they were 
 in Paris." 
 
 " But they stole the cuckoo clocks," persisted 
 Mile. Falaise, "the barbarians ! " 
 
 " Barbarians as much as you like," said Ellice, 
 " and their native tongue 
 
 " And their French ! I suppose they d call it 
 the Gomide Zendrale," mimicked Mile. Falaise, 
 making her mouth very round. 
 
 " Jack," said Landes, " I 11 tell you all I know 
 about the Central Committee. Do you remember 
 last month, while the peace was being arranged, a 
 placard was stuck all over the walls, a big, square, 
 red placard, blood-red ? " 
 
 "Yes, I remember it." 
 
 " It s a wonder you do, considering the thousands 
 of placards of every shape and color that we used to 
 see pasted up every day during the siege." 
 
 " Oh, I remember this one. It said the National 
 Guard had elected the undersigned as a Committee 
 to intervene in the situation." 
 
 " Yes, and they declared they would intervene in 
 the name of three hundred thousand citizens. It 
 is n t a small detail, three hundred thousand citizens. 
 And the undersigned were sixteen names abso 
 lutely unknown, unless you except that fellow Assi, 
 who came into prominence during the Creuzot 
 troubles. Well, that was the beginning of the 
 Comite Central. Nobody paid the slightest atten 
 tion to it then. So far as I know, no one does now, 
 and yet it seems to be there, all the same. What 
 is it, what does it want, Ynes ? "
 
 12 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " What the Comite Central wants," said Ynes, 
 impaling and eating a single pea, " is the Republic. 
 That s what I want also." 
 
 " It s what all France wants," said Ellice. 
 
 " Except Monsieur Thiers," said the girl, scorn 
 fully. 
 
 " Well, yes, I d like to know what Monsieur 
 Thiers wants too, while I m asking for information," 
 yawned Ellice. 
 
 " What he wants," flashed out Ynes, " is to insult 
 Paris. First he holds the National Assembly at 
 Bordeaux, and then he carries it to Versailles ! 
 Imbecile!" 
 
 " He said he did n t want to go there," said 
 Landes. " Versailles is the city of kings," he 
 said. 
 
 " Oh, pour cela, Versailles is well enough, said 
 Ynes. " It s only a suburb of Paris now, thanks to 
 the railroad. But Monsieur Thiers blows hot and 
 cold with the same mouth, that is my opinion," she 
 added, with a gay smile, and held out her glass to 
 touch Philip s. 
 
 They pledged the Republic, and, at her command, 
 drank confusion to all Germans, " and may their 
 stolen cuckoo clocks go wrong forever," said Ellice. 
 
 Ynes kissed her hand to him, and made him a 
 compliment on his esprit, but Landes harked back 
 to the first theme. 
 
 "This Central Committee bothers me," he said. 
 "What common end holds them together? Are 
 they afraid Thiers will betray the Republic ? Are 
 they is it the Commune they are after?"
 
 THE CAFE CARDINAL. 13 
 
 " The Commune," murmured Ellice. " That 
 would mean Thermidor!" Their eyes met, they 
 looked at Ynes, who was sipping an ice. Her pretty 
 teeth showed in a careless smile, a fluffy mass of silk 
 and lace framed her pointed foot. She glanced 
 aside, caught them looking at her, and became 
 injured and expostulatory. 
 
 " Mais, mon Dieu ! What is this ? Politics, poli 
 tics, always politics ! And that is how you make 
 yourselves agreeable to ladies, you Americans ! " 
 
 " Would Mademoiselle perhaps find this more 
 amusing?" smiled Philip, handing her the letter 
 which he had kept beside his plate. " Read it too, 
 Jack," he added. 
 
 Ellice leaned over with a "pardon, Ynes," and 
 glanced at the paper which she unfolded. When he 
 saw its contents he started back and stared at Lan- 
 des. " What in thunder ! " he exclaimed, " where 
 did you get that? " 
 
 " From Raoul Rigault, just now in the Cafe Car 
 dinal. He was there with Andre Sarre and a miscel 
 laneous collection of scum that I never saw before. 
 He made a nasty scene and then handed me this. 
 He said it was because I was an American 
 
 "Ah, bah ! " said Ynes, angrily. 
 
 " Well, did you say anything to him ? " asked Jack. 
 
 " I started to make a few suitable remarks, but had 
 to desist because of the shrieks of old Cardinal." 
 
 " Raoul Rigault knows all about the Comite Cen 
 tral," observed Ynes, in a low voice. 
 
 " Oh, he does. I thought as much." 
 
 After a short silence Landes resumed-
 
 14 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 11 Do you remember, Jack, how they celebrated the 
 twenty-fourth of February in the Place de la Bastile, 
 last month? " 
 
 " I did n t see it but I heard about it." 
 
 " What would you say was the prominent feature 
 in that celebration?" 
 
 " If you like to call a prominent feature what was 
 the only feature," mocked Ynes, recovering her 
 gaiety, " I should say La Garde Nationale." 
 
 " Well, I watched the whole business," Philip went 
 on, " from six in the morning till six in the evening 
 the battalions of the National Guard passed without 
 intermission, bands playing, bugles and drums, and 
 officers at their head. They carried wreaths of im 
 mortelles, tied with crape and red ribbons, and placed 
 them around the statue of Liberty in the Place de 
 la Bastile. During the next five days a hundred 
 and fifty battalions came and did the same thing. 
 Each one did exactly as all the rest. The delegates, 
 preceded by drummers and buglers or by bands, 
 with their officers and flags, entered through the 
 gate opposite the rue Saint-Antoine and passed 
 around the column inside the railing. The commis- 
 saires wore a red cocarde. When they halted, these 
 fellows in red took the wreaths and flags, each in 
 scribed with the number of the company and battal 
 ion, and placed them before the pedestal. Then the 
 commandant uncovered, the drums beat the long 
 roll, the bands played a patriotic air, and everybody 
 shouted, Vive la Republique ! Usually an offi 
 cer made a speech, which always began in the same 
 way, something like this : The people of Paris,
 
 THE CAF& CARDINAL. 1 5 
 
 honoring the memory of those illustrious victims 
 who died in defending Liberty, mean to defend the 
 Republic to the death. " 
 
 " They kept up their parades too," said Ellice, 
 " every day, and toward the end of the month they 
 grew rather rather menacing, I thought " 
 
 " More patriotic, you mean," interposed Mademoi 
 selle Ynes. 
 
 " Well," said Landes, " I heard an officer of the 
 238th battalion say : Monopolists and tyrants think 
 the people under age, but sometimes the people 
 wake up and claim their majority unexpectedly. 
 We speak, he said, of 93, of 1830 and 48 ; who 
 knows if our children will not add to these, 1871 ? 
 I thought it was only blow at the time but now I m 
 not so sure." 
 
 " After all," said Ellice, " this National Guard is a 
 pretty poor organization, seems to me. They only 
 grew war-like after the Prussians had left Paris. I d 
 back one regiment of the Line against the whole two 
 hundred and fifty battalions of the National Guard." 
 
 " They certainly have a fondness for blowing 
 bugles and it is very tiresome," laughed Ynes, " but 
 1 think they are good republicans." 
 
 " Blowing bugles and parading," repeated Ellice, 
 " they parade every day and all day." 
 
 " Yes," said Landes drily, " and the other day 
 they paraded their cannon out of sight." 
 
 " Out of sight ? " cried the girl. " Oh, pas du tout ! 
 They are quite easy to be seen winking and blinking 
 in the sun up on Montmartre. You must take me 
 up there to-morrow, Jack, every one is going."
 
 1 6 1HE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Now, see how these Parisians play with danger," 
 said Landes. " Do you think it amusing that an 
 organized militia seizes two hundred and fifty odd 
 pieces of cannon from the park in the Cours-la-Reine 
 and drags them up to the heights of Montmartre and 
 trains them on the city ? " 
 
 " It was to save them from being handed over to 
 the Germans," said Ynes ; " Thiers would have given 
 them up to Bismarck." 
 
 " Oh, never ! " protested Landes. 
 
 " Pardon," murmured Ynes, obstinately. 
 
 Landes smiled and waived the question. 
 
 "Anyway, Ynes," said Jack Ellice, "you must 
 confess it s making pretty free with government 
 property." 
 
 " Pardon," said Mademoiselle Falaise again and 
 set her pretty teeth. " The cannon belong to the 
 National Guard. Every soldier in each battalion 
 gave something toward paying for them, so did the 
 families and friends of the soldiers. I gave ten 
 francs, all I had at the time. They were built dur 
 ing the siege for the National Guard and paid for as 
 I have just told you. They don t belong to the 
 government at all ! " and Mademoiselle tossed her 
 head and looked very decided. 
 
 " All the same, Thiers ought to have shown spirit 
 enough to prevent their removal and placing where 
 they are. It s a menace pure and simple," said 
 Ellice. 
 
 " Who gave the order for their removal ? " inquired 
 Landes, picking up a pear and smiling at Ynes im 
 patience of their seriousness
 
 THE CAF CARDINAL. 1 7 
 
 11 The Central Committee," she answered. 
 
 " Precisely ! And the Parisians say that the Cen 
 tral Committee does not exist ! And Montmartre 
 bristles with artillery which could lay Paris in ashes, 
 and you think it a good joke. The illustrated papers 
 make caricatures about it. If Thiers is n t a fool, 
 he 11 send a Line regiment up there to fetch them 
 within the next twenty-four hours." 
 
 " Monsieur Thiers is a nobody," announced Ma- 
 damoiselle Falaise. " Monsieur Ellice, are you going 
 to take me to the theatre?" 
 
 They all rose. Landes walked with the others to 
 the door, and they stood a moment chatting on the 
 Boulevard St. Michel, then crying: "Au revoir ! A 
 demain done ! " they separated, Landes turning up 
 toward the Luxembourg Gardens, and Ellice, escort 
 ing Madamoiselle Falaise to the Folies-St-Antoine, 
 where she had a speaking part in the new farce, 
 " Paris Upside Down," and was receiving fifty francs 
 a week and some applause.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 
 
 AFTER taking leave of Jack and Ynes, Philip 
 walked slowly up the St. Michel and sat down 
 on a Boulevard bench. Mechanically he 
 took off his hat to enjoy the spring breeze. 
 
 "The first soft air," he thought to himself, "that 
 has entered the sad city, since her gates closed in 
 autumn and the state of siege was proclaimed." This 
 started several trains of thought at once, which he 
 followed, not because he wanted to, but because they 
 persisted, getting themselves more or less mixed up 
 and intertwisted as trains of thought will ; the scene 
 in Cafe Cardinal, the talk with Jack and Ynes, and 
 now this first touch of returning spring, reminding 
 him of light-hearted springtimes that came and went 
 before the troubles began. 
 
 It was the i6th day of March, 1871. 
 
 On the 2Oth of January preceding, General Trochu, 
 Governor of Paris, had lost his last battle under the 
 walls, and had published the following despatch : 
 
 18
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 19 
 
 NOTICE ! 
 
 IT IS NOW URGENTLY NECESSARY TO SEND A FLAG OF 
 TRUCE TO SEVRES, DEMANDING AN ARMISTICE OF TWO 
 DAYS, FOR THE REMOVAL OF THE WOUNDED, AND THE 
 BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 WAGONS, STOUTLY BUILT AND WELL EQUIPPED, ARE 
 WANTED, ALSO THE LARGEST POSSIBLE NUMBER OF 
 STRETCHERS. 
 
 LOSE NO TIME, BUT WORK ! 
 
 Landes went out with the American ambulance. 
 Before he returned, Paris had surrendered. 
 
 Poor General Trochu ! In the beginning he had 
 cried, " The Governor of Paris will not surrender ! " 
 but hunger, bitter cold, and a dissatisfied public 
 told heavily on the resolution of the Governor 
 of Paris. Sortie after sortie failed to break the 
 ring of German bayonets. The people clamored 
 for another and still another effort. He sent out 
 thousands of men to face their fate. They went 
 gladly. Few of them ever returned. Yet even 
 when the shattered remnants of their troops crept 
 back through the gates of the fortifications, the 
 people cried, " The Governor of Paris must not 
 surrender ! " 
 
 On the 2 1st of January, the people read in placards 
 on the walls that the Government of National 
 Defence had decided to separate the offices of Com 
 mander-in-chief of the Army and President of the 
 Government, that General Vinoy was appointed 
 Commandant of the Army of Paris, that the title 
 and functions of Governor of Paris were suppressed,
 
 2O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 and that General Trochu was to remain President 
 of the Government. 
 
 On the ist day of March, as the morning bells 
 sounded eight o clock, the first German of the 
 advanced guard passed the fortifications of Neuilly. 
 At half-past ten, the German army being massed on 
 the meadow of Longchamps, the Crown Prince passed 
 along the cheering lines. At ten minutes to eleven, 
 the cheers rolled out in a deafening " Hoch dem 
 Konig ! " and King William galloped across the 
 meadow to the windmill, where his son was waiting 
 to receive him. Then all the splendid German bands 
 crashed out with the hymn " Heil dir in Sieges- 
 kranz ! " 
 
 The echo of that triumphant music was still sound 
 ing in Paris over the Seine, among the shell-torn 
 houses of the left bank, and in the bitter hearts of 
 the people. Landes heard it, now, as he sat musing, 
 his eyes bent on his cane, with which he was absently 
 beating a tattoo on the curb. 
 
 "Monsieur Philip," whispered a voice behind him. 
 He swung around and jumped up. 
 
 " Faustine! " he exclaimed " What s the matter? 
 What are you crying for?" 
 
 At first she would do nothing but lean against a 
 tree and sob quietly. After a while he persuaded 
 her to sit down, and then lighting a cigarette, he 
 waited for her to speak when she should be ready. 
 He knew she would not have come to him if she had 
 not had something to say. 
 
 The Place de Medici was not well lighted. The 
 petroleum lamps, which had hung from the gilded
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 21 
 
 iron railing of the Luxembourg Gardens during the 
 siege were now removed, and the gas burned dimly, 
 at long intervals, on some of the gas posts. The 
 light from the Cafe d lena on the opposite side of the 
 Boulevard St. Michel illumined the fountain in the 
 Place de Medici, but hardly penetrated to the 
 Gardens. Under the black arcades of the Odeon, a 
 lantern or two glimmered feebly. Few people 
 passed ; no one paid the slightest attention to them. 
 A woman s sobs could scarcely attract attention in a 
 city which for six months had heard little else. 
 Landes smoked and waited, still beating a gentle 
 tattoo on the curbstone. 
 
 After a while, Faustine stopped crying and sat 
 up, drying her eyes, and arranging her veil. Then 
 he leaned toward her with a pleasant, " anything I 
 can do for you, Faustine? " 
 
 " Nothing," she smiled, but her lip trembled ; 
 " nothing, unless you can bring back old times, Mon 
 sieur Philip." 
 
 " Oh, they 11 come back all right," he said cheer 
 fully, not in the least believing it. " It will be just 
 the same when the chestnuts are in blossom our 
 own set, you know, when we can get together again, 
 you, Ynes, Jack Ellice, Georges Carriere " 
 
 " Killed at Champigny ! " 
 
 " I forgot," said Landes, soberly. " Well, there 
 are Alfred d Aunay, and Armand Riviere " 
 
 " Armand ! Oh, Monsieur Philip, he was sabred 
 by the Prussians ! " 
 
 " I never heard that," Landes said, and then there 
 was a long silence.
 
 22 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Everyone everything is changed, is changing," 
 she began again. " Friends are no longer friends, 
 comrades turn on one, people one would not have 
 spoken to in the old days give orders now, and 
 strike ! " Her voice was very low and full of bitter 
 resentment. Landes looked up sharply, as if he 
 would ask a question, but changed his mind and 
 waited. 
 
 " No," she went on, " I shall never be happy again. 
 Do you remember how gay we were here in the 
 Quarter, Francine and Wyeth Vernon, Mariette and 
 Georges Carriere ; then you, Jack Ellice, Ynes 
 Falaise, and I, who were nothing but good comrades 
 and oh! so happy!" She laid a gloved hand on 
 his arm. 
 
 " My poor Philip, don t you understand ? That 
 is all over. Can you make this the same city it was 
 then ? Can you make us the same people we were 
 then ? Can you bring Georges back from the field 
 of Champigny, and the smile to Mariette s eyes? 
 If one dragged the bottom of the Loiret, there would 
 be Armand with a sabre cut across his face. And 
 when we go down the rue de Bac, we pass the place 
 where Francine was killed by a shell, -you saw her 
 lying in the street with her pretty gray jacket all 
 ripped and splashed ; Wyeth Vernon was walking 
 so near her, that his sleeve was drenched with her 
 blood. He used to blush when she called him stupid, 
 and follow her about everywhere. He does n t know 
 what to do with himself now. You may see him 
 any day on a bench in the Gardens there. I tell 
 you," she went on excitedly, " the shadow of the
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 23 
 
 Prussian eagle wraps the city still, and his talons are 
 in my heart ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Oh! Come, Faustine, not so tragic," said 
 Landes, speaking very gently. " And by the way, I 
 don t wonder you think the decent people are all 
 dead, if you take up with the sort I saw you with 
 to-day." 
 
 " Yes ! Why do I lower myself to become the 
 comrade of such men as Sarre and Rigault, /, Faus 
 tine Courtois ! " 
 
 " That s what I want to know," he replied sharply. 
 
 " Because they are Revolutionists," she cried reck 
 lessly. " Because they plot " 
 
 "A la Grande Duchesse,"put in Landes. 
 
 She checked herself and asked quietly, " my poor 
 Philip, do you think it is a farce ? " 
 
 " I think that anything Sarre and Rigault manage 
 will be a farce fit for the Palais Royal. But that is 
 not the point at present. Low as they are, their 
 friends are lower. What is a girl like you doing in 
 the company of a creature like Tribert ? " 
 
 Faustine hung her head. 
 
 " I thought I could endure him because he works 
 for the Republic, and I hate mon Dieu, how I hate 
 the Empire the Germans and Thiers. I had noth 
 ing else to give, so I gave myself." 
 
 " That was a mistake." Landes spoke very dryly. 
 His tone seemed to sting Faustine beyond endurance. 
 
 " A mistake," she cried, " and what will you call 
 it when I tell you that to-day he struck me ? " 
 
 Philip was silent. " Faustine," he said at length, 
 " this is dropping pretty low."
 
 24 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 She began to sob again, violently. 
 
 "When did the creature strike you, and why?" 
 he demanded. 
 
 " This evening, after I we had gone home." 
 
 " But why," insisted Philip. 
 
 " Because I took your part in the Cafe Cardinal 
 to-day, and because of something I said last night." 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 " I told them " 
 
 "Them?" 
 
 " Yes. Rigault, Sarre, Tribert, and the rest, that 
 the Revolution would never prosper on crimes 
 like those they were planning. He said he would 
 beat me if I said that again, and to-night he did 
 so." 
 
 Landes listened, shocked beyond measure. " What 
 crimes, Faustine ? " 
 
 For answer she only wept and kept repeating, 
 " I am not a traitress ! but neither am I a thief," and 
 he could get nothing else from her. Presently he 
 said : " You and crime ! My poor Faustine ! I never 
 thought of you and crime together." 
 
 " C est bien ! " she cried hysterically. " If you call 
 robbing the Bank of France to get money for the 
 Revolution a crime, then you may call me what you 
 will; for when they talked of that, I did not oppose 
 them. And they 11 doit, too, someday. But when 
 it comes to picking pockets, and murdering old 
 men " 
 
 " What s that ? " cried Landes. 
 
 " Oh, do you think they would stop at that ? It 
 was Tribert who planned it, and then I told him I
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 2$ 
 
 hated him, and then the rest happened. He struck 
 me, that canaille ! " 
 
 "And the murder? 
 
 " Yes, of your friend s father, Colonel the Count 
 de Brassac ! " 
 
 Landes stood up. 
 
 " This is too much," he said sternly. 
 
 Faustine winced at his tone, and her head sank 
 lower than ever. 
 
 " It is that I came to warn you," she said humbly. 
 
 " Go on," he said, and again she shrank at his 
 tone. She spoke from that moment in a suppressed 
 voice of intense suffering. Philip remembered after 
 ward, but at the time he was wholly preoccupied 
 with what she had to tell him. 
 
 " Go on, Faustine," he repeated. 
 
 She began in a dull, mechanical voice, but clearly : 
 
 " Colonel the Count de Brassac, father of Victor 
 de Brassac, your friend, n est ce pas? who won the 
 Prix de Rome and died three years ago " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Colonel de Brassac led the cavalry at Klar- 
 brunnen, and was taken prisoner. He was paroled 
 to his home in Chartres. Three days ago he arrived 
 in Paris. You know all this?" 
 
 " Yes, I know it. His arrival was in all the papers." 
 
 " Last night, Sarre came to us in the Cafe 1 Car 
 dinal, and took us to his own place. There he told 
 us that the Count de Brassac had brought with him 
 some family jewels to place for safe keeping in the 
 Bank of France. He would not tell us how he knew 
 it, but he said the Count was very careless with the
 
 26 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 jewels, carrying them in a small bag in his pocket, 
 and often going out alone. Then Tribert said it 
 would be very easy to rob him, and that he had 
 better be killed too, as that would make less trouble." 
 
 " I shall warn Colonel de Brassac ! " said Philip, 
 contemptuously. 
 
 " It is what I wished. But I am not a traitress, I 
 am not ! " 
 
 Landes was so preoccupied with disgust and in 
 dignation, as well as alarm, that he failed to notice 
 her painful self-defence, but he recalled it afterward. 
 
 " Mazas and the guillotine will find your friends 
 all in good time, Faustine. Meanwhile, had n t you 
 better cut loose from them ?" 
 
 " I must go back to them," she replied doggedly, 
 "and work for the Republic; without crime and 
 Tribert if I can, with them if I must. Dear Mon 
 sieur Philip," she broke out pitifully, "you stare at 
 me so strangely ! " 
 
 Landes looked at her, puzzled. How changed 
 she was. The associate of criminals ? he could not 
 believe it. Yet if she was indeed that, why did she 
 betray them ? Was it revenge for the blow? If so, 
 the revenge was worthy of the company she kept. 
 The thought sickened him. She read it in his eyes, 
 turned very pale, and rose. 
 
 " No," she said gently, " you are wrong. It is not 
 revenge. I have told you because the Count de 
 Brassac is your friend, and you are Philip Landes, 
 whom I love ! " 
 
 Landes started and stepped back. " Nonsense ! " 
 he began, but Faustine was already hurrying away.
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 2/ 
 
 He stood and watched her while she crossed the 
 Boulevard St. Michel, and turned into the rue 
 Souflot. He believed she had told the truth, both 
 about the facts and her motive for revealing them. 
 For one thing, Faustine never lied. He could see 
 that, for the time at least, Faustine loved him, but 
 that did not strike him as of much importance. He 
 was used to the caprices of Latin-Quarter girls, and 
 being of a healthy mind, he did not regard them 
 very seriously as a rule. He had never cared for 
 one of her kind, except in the way of good comrade 
 ship. Looking now after Faustine, he felt for one 
 moment a touch of the tenderness which always 
 moves a man toward a woman who loves him, un 
 less she interferes with his love for some other 
 woman. The feeling was gone before she had dis 
 appeared, hurrying down the rue Souflot, but he 
 stood a moment longer, musing upon the gay times 
 which she had just reminded him could never be 
 recalled, and thinking regretfully how she was 
 changed for the worse. Six months ago she had 
 been a girl of the Quarter, educated, clever, charm 
 ing, full of gaiety, never sentimental, a perfect com 
 rade for a young student occupied in making day 
 and night a masterpiece of pleasure as he understood 
 it. Landes had inherited healthy blood, and his 
 idea of pleasure did not include the craving ache of 
 vice, but it did include an undue proportion of 
 childish play. He found perfect satisfaction for 
 some of his needs in galloping through Meudon 
 woods, in fishing the still pools of the Caillette, in 
 romping over the fragrant meadows of Versailles.
 
 28 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Faustine galloped, fished, and romped, yet she was 
 never vulgar, never tiresome, she never lost a certain 
 dainty politeness, even when she lost her temper. 
 He supposed she had various affairs about which he 
 knew nothing, and cared less, but for him she was 
 merely an excellent playmate, in those days when 
 he was still a boy at heart. 
 
 Sometimes he found his reputation for morality a 
 little irksome in the Quarter, where good morals and 
 white blackbirds are equally rare. He chafed a little 
 now and then, when it became too evident that St. 
 Anthony was considered to be nowhere compared 
 with him, but hard work in the Ecole des Beaux 
 Arts, and hard play outside of the school, left him 
 not much interest for what others were saying of 
 him. And now he stood watching Faustine as she 
 disappeared down the rue Souflot, and it seemed a 
 dream that less than one year ago life had been so 
 young and irresponsible and gay. 
 
 Throwing away his cigarette, he sighed and but 
 toned his overcoat close, for the spring balm was 
 gone from the air, and the night winds were rising. 
 Walking swiftly down the rue de Medici, he turned 
 the corner of the rue de Vaugirard to the Odeon, 
 and entered the telegraph office in the Palais du 
 Senat. Taking up some blanks, he began to com 
 pose a message, then stopped short. It rushed 
 upon him all at once that he had not the Count de 
 Brassac s address. He had forgotten to ask it, and 
 Faustine had suddenly broken away without remem 
 bering to tell him if she knew it. The hotel where 
 the family had formerly lived when in Paris had
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 2Q 
 
 been sold since Victor s death, followed very shortly 
 by the death of his mother. The old Count and his 
 daughter had been living at Chartres when the war 
 began, and Landes had not an idea where the Count 
 would be stopping now. His eye fell on the military 
 operator who was looking sharply at him, and he 
 promptly walked into the inner office, and saluted 
 this gentleman with one of those bows which a 
 Frenchman knows how to perform and to appreciate. 
 When in excellent French Landes asked for the 
 address of Colonel the Count de Brassac, Thirtieth 
 Huasars of the Guard, Division d Hericourt, late 
 prisoner of war at Klarbrunnen, the operator was 
 no longer suspicious, and politely begged him to 
 wait. He brought out a bulky volume, and ran 
 over the pages, Landes watching him with interest, 
 a sentry with loaded chassepot peering in at Landes 
 through the barred window. 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte de Brassac is domiciled at 
 Chartres, subject to orders from General Vinoy," he 
 said, after a long search. 
 
 " But I know that," said Landes, " he came to 
 Paris recently, and I thought you might be able to 
 tell me where I could get his address. The operator 
 set the keys clicking. Almost immediately answer 
 ing clicks came back, and he reappeared at the post- 
 office window. 
 
 " I have telegraphed to the Ministry of War," he 
 said ; " Colonel de Brassac has just left General 
 Vinoy to return to his hotel in the rue Faublas, 
 Number 13." 
 
 " Ah ! Then I know the house well. Many
 
 3<D THE RED REPUBLIC, 
 
 thanks, mon capitaine," and with another ceremo 
 nious salute Landes departed, leaving the official 
 thoroughly delighted at having been mistaken for a 
 captain by such a distinguished gentleman. 
 
 Philip crossed the street, and, entering the rue 
 Monsieur le Prince, cut through the rue des Mauvaia 
 Menages, crossed the Impasse Lombard, and turned 
 up the rue Faublas. 
 
 Four years ago his friend of the Atelier, Victor de 
 Brassac, had invited him to spend the Christmas 
 holidays with his family in the little hotel there on 
 the corner. One year later Victor died in Rome, at 
 the Villa Medici. Landes had attended his friend s 
 funeral at St. Sulpice, and had been affectionately 
 received by his friend s parents when he went to 
 them afterward. But in a few days they left for 
 Nice, and soon after the mother died. Only the 
 Count was left and his daughter Jeanne. They went 
 to live at Chartres, and Philip had never seen them 
 since. 
 
 Landes walked slowly up to the gate and rang the 
 bell. The same old porter came toddling out of 
 his lodge, and admitted him into the court, where a 
 servant met and led him through the garden, and 
 into the house. 
 
 When the servant had gone away with his card, 
 Landes stood and looked about the drawing-room. 
 It had never been refurnished. There stood the 
 same piano where Victor s young sister Jeanne, 
 home for her school holidays, had played her little 
 convent pieces, but there was no warm glow of a 
 sea-coal fire in the empty grate, and in the light
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 31 
 
 from a single lamp the familiar colors looked pale 
 and faded. The Colonel entered, and Landes was 
 shocked at the change in him. He had grown old 
 and white and small. His uniform glittered on him 
 like a jewelled case on a mummy. He came to 
 Philip with both hands outstretched. 
 
 " My son s friend ! You are welcome, Monsieur 
 Landes." Then they sat down and spoke of Victor 
 and the Prix de Rome and his first envoi, of his 
 death, and of his mother s death. 
 
 " My wife died of a broken heart," said the Colo 
 nel. 
 
 " I know it, Monsieur le Comte," said Philip, and 
 they were silent, looking sadly at each other in the 
 faded room. 
 
 "And Mademoiselle de Brassac?" said Philip, 
 after a while ; " happily, she escaped the siege. I 
 hope she is well." 
 
 " My daughter is well, and is with me in Paris, 
 though not at this hotel. I sold it at the time, and 
 we have lived ever since at Chartres. But the 
 present owner, who lives in London since the 
 troubles, placed the house at my disposal, when I 
 returned to Paris. But I only come here sometimes 
 from the War Office, because it is so near. The house 
 is too full of memories for my little girl. Jeanne 
 and I are stopping in the Hotel Perret in the Place 
 Pigalle, but we return to Chartres on the i8th of 
 March, the day after to-morrow. All our friends are 
 gone from Paris. There is not one left to whom I 
 could confide Jeanne, and she can t be here alone. 
 Come to us before we go. Come to Chartres when
 
 32 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 you can, to the Chateau de Brassac." And then 
 they spoke of war, of humiliation and disaster and 
 defeat, of the siege and its horrors, the insubordina 
 tion of the National Guard, the removal of the can 
 non, and what it threatened. 
 
 All this time Landes had been wondering how he 
 should say what he had come to say. He felt his 
 youth, and had a horror of seeming officious. He 
 cast about in his mind for a way to approach the 
 subject, and ended by going straight to the point. 
 
 " Count de Brassac," he said, standing up, " I 
 heard an hour ago that you are in personal danger. 
 Some ruffians have learned, or think they have, that 
 you carry about with you some valuable diamonds, 
 and they have planned to waylay and rob you." 
 
 The Count rose too. " That is true," he said 
 quietly, " however it has become known. I did bring 
 a small bag of diamonds up with me to deposit in 
 the Bank of France. They are about all Jeanne will 
 have at my death. I have almost nothing else left 
 except the Chateau, and old chateaux don t bring 
 much in the market nowadays," he added, rather bit 
 terly. " There were two attempts at burglary made 
 at our house in Chartres, showing some one knew 
 they were there, so I came up to Paris with them." 
 
 " But, pardon ! it is such a risk to carry them 
 about." 
 
 " I did not mean to. I have tried twice already 
 to see the Marquis de Ploeuc of the Bank of France. 
 To-night I have an appointment to meet him at the 
 Luxembourg. Perhaps he will receive and put 
 them somewhere in safe keeping to-night ; if not, to-
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 33 
 
 morrow they will be deposited in the Bank of 
 France." 
 
 " The sooner the better," said Landes, unable 
 quite to restrain his impatience. " The criminal 
 element here is growing more openly threatening 
 than I have ever seen it. I never before encountered, 
 in all Paris, so many hang-dog faces as I now meet 
 daily in the Latin Quarter. Pardon, Count, but, in 
 deed, it is not safe to carry these jewels on your 
 person. You see there are already some thieves and 
 cut-throats who know about them." 
 
 " So it appears," said the old soldier, dryly. 
 " Would it interest you to look at what Messieurs 
 the pickpockets find so desirable?" He drew a 
 small leather bag from the pocket of his dolman and 
 handed it to Philip. " Open it," he said, smiling. A 
 small cascade of flashing stones fell on to a table be 
 side them. The gems were large and of splendid 
 lustre. The sight increased Landes uneasiness and 
 he ventured to press his warning more urgently. 
 
 " Well," said the Count, " I confess I cannot feel 
 that there is really any danger, but if there is, it will 
 soon be over. Either to-night, or to-morrow at the 
 latest, they will be in safe keeping. And, pardon 
 me, but it only wants a quarter of the hour when I 
 must be at the Luxembourg." 
 
 " Will you let me accompany you ? " 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure. I shall be delighted 
 to have your company, one moment to change my 
 uniform. But first permit me " and he offered 
 Landes a glass of wine from a tray the servant 
 placed before him. They bowed to each other and
 
 34 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 drank in silence. As the Count set down his glass, 
 he said once more : " Monsieur, you were my son s 
 friend." He excused himself and withdrew, quickly 
 returning in a simple fatigue jacket without a sword 
 belt. Philip noted this, but as a young man and a 
 civilian he felt it impossible to say anything ; be 
 sides he could not but hope that the Colonel would 
 at least have a revolver in his pocket. All the more 
 that now he saw how few precautions of that sort 
 his old friend was inclined to take, he regretted bit 
 terly his own habit of going unarmed. 
 
 They traversed the court, and, passing through 
 the gate, entered the dark street. It was quite de 
 serted. They walked along in silence, the Colonel s 
 spurs ringing faintly with the rhythmic tap of Lan- 
 des cane. A single gas jet illuminated the rue Fau- 
 blas, but when they turned into the narrow Impasse 
 Lombard not a ray of light remained. The tall old 
 houses were closed and silent ; the stream of water 
 running along the gutter rippled like a mountain 
 brook in the silence. 
 
 " Do I walk too fast? " asked Philip. 
 
 " No, my child," said the old officer, and his voice 
 showed that he was smiling. " Do you think I am a 
 pensionnaire of the Invalides ? " 
 
 " Not after Klarbrunnen," began Philip, but just 
 then they had reached the corner of the rue des 
 Mauvais-Menages, and he stopped short. 
 
 " Well, mon enfant ? " inquired the Colonel, strid 
 ing ahead. 
 
 " I thought we were followed," said Landes, peer 
 ing back into the darkness.
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 35 
 
 " I thought so too," said the Colonel. 
 
 They went on quietly but heard nothing except 
 their own footsteps. They reached the rue Monsieur 
 le Prince. 
 
 "How dark it looks," murmured Landes, "and 
 not a thing stirring, not even a cat." 
 
 "You ate all the tabbies last winter," began the 
 Colonel, laughing. Philip laid a hand on his arm. 
 
 " There come the steps again, always on the 
 opposite side of the street." They stared into the 
 shadows behind them. " You have your revolver ? " 
 said Landes. 
 
 " No, I have not. I am to blame Philip, but 
 you ? " 
 
 " No, I never carry one, and to-night I did not 
 know that one would be needed. I came to you on 
 very short notice, the moment I was warned myself. 
 But my stick is heavy 
 
 "I am to blame," repeated the old soldier; "it 
 was a foolish act to leave the revolver. But I think 
 after all we were mistaken. Listen, we are not fol 
 lowed." They listened ; not a step could be heard. 
 They turned into the rue Monsieur le Prince ; that 
 was better lighted, and a few people were afoot there. 
 Landes drew a long breath as they came in sight of 
 the gilded iron railing of the Luxembourg. " Now ! " 
 he thought, but to his amazement the Count kept 
 straight on, and entered the Gardens by the gate of 
 the Fountain of Marie de Medici. Landes followed, 
 protesting earnestly. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " said the Count, laughing, " what 
 would you have ? It is the short cut."
 
 36 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " But it is only a few moments longer by the 
 street," urged Landes, " and these trees are too thick 
 for a dark night." 
 
 " Not for young eyes like yours and mine," per 
 sisted the old soldier, and Philip chafed to hear 
 the smile in his voice. But he followed without 
 another word, and they crossed together the strip of 
 turf which separates the shrub-grown path from the 
 long, square pool of the fountain. Here gigantic 
 sycamores threw their shadow on the gravel, and a 
 thicket of shrubs, dense, although leafless, cast a deep 
 gloom over the shallow reaches of the pool. 
 
 " There are the barracks," said the Count, taking 
 off his fatigue cap, and passing a handkerchief over 
 his forehead. " Mon Dieu ! How you walk, Mon 
 sieur the American. Have all the young men in 
 America legs like that ? " 
 
 Landes did not answer. His eyes were fixed on 
 the thicket close behind him. Quick as a flash he 
 raised his stick and at the same moment Sarre felled 
 him from behind. 
 
 When he recovered consciousness, and the roaring 
 in his ears had partly died away, he heard Tribert s 
 voice very near : 
 
 " Throw that American into the water. No, don t 
 search him. I did that. What the devil are you 
 doing, Sarre? Leave the Count alone." Then he 
 swore frightfully, cursing Sarre and Georgias by 
 name. 
 
 " The Count did n t have the diamonds on him, 
 after all," snarled Georgias, delivering a kick at 
 Landes body.
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 37 
 
 "You lie, you bungling Greek! I tell you I heard 
 them fall into the water. 
 
 "If you would look more carefully in his clothes," 
 suggested Sarre, with an anxious snicker. 
 
 " Oh, you make me sick, you scented, fat-headed 
 bungler ! The bag fell into the water, I heard it. 
 I told you to keep him away from the edge. Unless 
 
 Pagot comes back with that light pretty d d 
 
 quick, we 11 lose the diamonds, and if he does come, 
 they 11 see it at the corps de garde and be down on 
 us. Georgias, do you hear? Help me drop this 
 American pork overboard." 
 
 "Onthebag of diamonds, "giggled Sarre, nervously. 
 " Only wait till Pagot brings a light. Damn the 
 lazy fool, why don t he hurry ? Shall I slip my knife 
 into the American ? He s breathing and trying to 
 turn over," said Georgias. 
 
 "Yes," muttered Tribert, "stick him deep behind 
 the ear. Hark ! is that Pagot ? " 
 
 " Qui vive ? " 
 
 " Friends," stammered Georgias. 
 
 " Halt ! " shouted a voice behind them, with a rat 
 tle of accoutrements and the stamp of horses hoofs. 
 
 " The cavalry ! " whispered Tribert. " They are 
 on the grass among the trees. Stick the American ! 
 stick the American, quick ! What are you shaking 
 for ? idiot ! fool ! Give me the knife ! Give it, 
 I say ! " 
 
 " Advance three paces, friends of France," came 
 the order close beside them. 
 
 Tribert seized the knife. A lantern flashed in his 
 face.
 
 38 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " A 1 assassin ! " "A 1 assassin ! " came the star 
 tled cry of the vedette, and bang! bang! bang! 
 rang the cavalry carbines, while the drums crashed 
 out in the guard-house below, and a bugle sent the 
 echoes flying among the trees. 
 
 " Au secours ! " gasped Landes, and fainted dead 
 away. 
 
 " Cochon ! " panted Tribert, hurling the knife at 
 his throat. " Attrape ton secours ! " 
 
 Lights were dancing before Philip s eyes when 
 consciousness returned again, and tall figures moved 
 slowly about him, in apparently aimless circles. 
 After a while his mind grew clearer, and he began 
 to remember. Then a sudden fear chilled him and 
 he tried to rise on his elbow. 
 
 " The Count," he said weakly. " Where is the 
 Count de Brassac ? " 
 
 The moving figures seemed to be struck motion 
 less. Some one brought a light close to him, and he 
 saw that he was lying on a military cot covered with 
 soldiers blankets. He was in a big gray room and 
 all about him soldiers moved. Their motion and 
 the light pained his eyes, and his head ached as if 
 the skull would fly into splinters. 
 
 A white-haired officer came, and another, a sur 
 geon, readjusted a bandage about his throat, and 
 laid something cool over his eyes and forehead. 
 
 " Can you speak ? " asked the officer. 
 
 "Yes," said Landes, but his own voice jarred his 
 head, and the jar sickened him.
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 39 
 
 "You were attacked. Do you remember how? " 
 
 " I was with the Count de Brassac. He stopped a 
 moment by the fountain to rest. He was laughing 
 because I walked so fast. Then then I don t re 
 member oh, yes something looked out from the 
 thicket the face of a thief Tribert. I struck at 
 him with my cane then then I don t remember." 
 The pain was severe and he had to stop and wait 
 until the throbbing of his brain subsided a little. 
 
 " What is his name, the man you saw in the 
 thicket ? " 
 
 "Tribert." 
 
 " Where does he live ? " 
 
 " I don t know. I have seen him in the Caf Car 
 dinal. There were other other thieves. I heard 
 them talking when I lay on the ground." 
 
 " Who were the others? " 
 
 " Georgias, the Greek ; Andre Sarre, student in the 
 ficole de Medecine ; and a man they called Pagot." 
 
 " Who are you ? " 
 
 " Philip Landes, citizen of the United States, liv 
 ing at 70 rue Notre Dame, student of painting in the . 
 Ecole des Beaux Arts." Pain forced him to stop 
 again. 
 
 " Make one more effort," said the officer. " There 
 is no danger ? " turning to the surgeon. 
 
 " Oh, no, he is not badly injured. There is no 
 fracture, and the knife only grazed the skin of his 
 throat, but the pain confuses him." 
 
 " Try, again then, Monsieur Landes. Try to tell 
 me all you know about the affair." 
 
 Philip made a desperate effort to concentrate his
 
 4O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 mind, and succeeded. As his mind grew clear, he 
 realized that he must speak warily, or he should 
 compromise Faustine, and he was resolved not to do 
 that if it could be avoided. So when at last he told 
 his story in a weak voice, with long pauses, he left 
 her out of it altogether. 
 
 He said in substance that he could not mistake 
 the thieves for he had met the whole lot of them that 
 afternoon in the Caf6 Cardinal, and been insulted by 
 them because he was an American. Their voices were 
 unmistakable. After dinner, he had wanted to call 
 on his old friend, the Count de Brassac, returned 
 three days ago to Paris, " Monsieur knew ? " 
 
 Oh, yes, the officer knew all about that. 
 
 Well, Landes said, he had found the Count s ad- 
 dress at the telegraph office in the Palais du Snat. 
 The Count was in the old hotel of the family, rue 
 Faublas. Philip had gone there after dinner and 
 had found him. The Count had shown him a small 
 bag of diamonds which he had brought up to Paris 
 to place for safekeeping in the Bank of France. He 
 was going to keep an appointment to meet the Mar 
 quis de Ploeuc this evening. 
 
 " It seemed to me," said Landes, " that he carried 
 the diamonds rather recklessly, and when I found 
 that he was going to the Luxembourg quite alone, I 
 begged permission to accompany him." Then he 
 related the rest, and at last resolutely asked the ques 
 tion whose answer he had been dreading to hear. 
 
 " And the Count de Brassac ? " 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte is very badly hurt- * 
 
 "He is dead?" -
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 4! 
 
 " He was killed by a knife-thrust." 
 
 " That was Georgias," whispered Landes. and 
 fainted away again. 
 
 They would not let him talk any more, and to 
 that end kept him well under the influence of mor 
 phine. He slept heavily all the next day, and only 
 woke at night long enough to passively take some 
 soup. Next morning he awoke from a dreamless 
 slumber and looked at the white-haired officer who 
 was standing by watching him. 
 
 " Good ! " said that gentleman. " Monsieur is 
 better." 
 
 Philip sat up. There was plenty of lassitude and 
 stiffness in his muscles, and his head felt queer, but 
 he answered : " I am quite well. I must get up." 
 
 " When you like, but first a word, if you please." 
 
 The officer took some papers from his pocket. 
 "Those are the papers found upon you two nights 
 ago. One is a letter notifying you of your expul 
 sion from the Students League, on account of your 
 being an American. It is signed by Raoul Rigault 
 and countersigned by Andre Sarre. And this is the 
 telegram you wrote to the Count de Brassac, with 
 out sending, at the office of the Palais du Senat, the 
 same night. The operator in charge remembers you 
 and corroborates your account." After a pause the 
 officer went on : " The Count de Brassac died about 
 half-past eleven on the night of the assault. He 
 recovered consciousness before he died. His daugh 
 ter was summoned and was with him. He was able 
 to speak with her." 
 
 "Poor little Jeanne! Philip suddenly saw the
 
 42 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 desolate child and his eyes filled with tears. He had 
 not spoken, but the white-haired officer said, kindly : 
 
 "You are right, Monsieur!" 
 
 "We are anxious about the jewels," he went on. 
 " They were found in the basin of the fountain, and 
 should have been given at once to the Marquis de 
 Ploeuc, but by some mistake they were left in the 
 hands of Mademoiselle de Brassac s maid, and are now 
 in the de Brassac apartments at the Hotel Ferret." 
 
 "Oh, that is wrong! Some harm will come to 
 the young lady if the thieves know she has those 
 jewels in her possession ! " 
 
 " That is what we fear, although at present an 
 orderly is on guard there subject to her commands ; 
 but when you are able to go there, Monsieur, I 
 think you can be of great service to her. The Count 
 spoke to her of you before he died." 
 
 The officer bowed, and Landes felt that he was 
 trusted. 
 
 " Have the murderers been caught ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, and it will be a difficult matter to take 
 them. Listen, Monsieur Landes. They are the 
 soul and centre of a widespread conspiracy. There 
 is more than murder in it. We have stumbled upon 
 a plot whose ramifications give great cause for 
 anxiety. The government has been notified, the 
 police are working secretly, the newspapers have 
 been prevented from publishing any account of the 
 murder. They reported the Count s death from a 
 stroke of paralysis. The Count was buried yesterday 
 at Montrouge, privately. If possible, Mademoiselle 
 de Brassac should leave Paris for Chartres to-day."
 
 PHILIP ACTS AS ESCORT. 43 
 
 "What is to-day?" 
 
 "The i8th." 
 
 " Then I have been ill two nights and a day ? " 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 Landes sprang up without further ceremony. 
 When he was dressed and was shaking hands with 
 the surgeon, who pronounced him all right, but 
 advised him to keep his head cool and avoid excite 
 ment for the present, for," said the doctor, laugh 
 ing, " they did n t crack your skull, but they came 
 very neeir it," just at that moment an orderly en 
 tered and handed a note to the white-haired officer. 
 
 " What are you doing away from the Hotel Per- 
 ret?" asked that gentleman, sharply. 
 
 " Mademoiselle insisted, mon capitaine." 
 
 The captain shrugged and turned abruptly to 
 Landes. 
 
 " Mademoiselle is now entirely alone with her 
 maid in the Hotel Ferret. She sends a note asking 
 if Mr. Philip Landes will be well enough to call 
 upon her before she leaves for Chartres. If not, she 
 says she 11 come here with her maid. She wishes to 
 thank you, Monsieur, and to give you a message 
 from her father. She should have found some other 
 messenger than the orderly who was there to protect 
 her. Perhaps there is no time to lose, Monsieur." 
 
 " Will you do me the favor to send for a cab?" 
 said Philip. 
 
 While he was waiting, stick and hat in hand, after 
 he had made the proper acknowledgments and ex 
 changed very cordial adieus, the captain said to 
 him, drily :
 
 44 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Well, the troops left this morning to retake the 
 cannon on Montmartre." 
 
 "Ah ! " exclaimed Landes, " it was time." 
 
 "Yes, it was time, and do you know what con 
 vinced M. Thiers also that it was time ? They say 
 it was the revelations which reached him in connec 
 tion with this murder of the Count de Brassac." 
 
 " The conspiracy of which you spoke alarms M. 
 Thiers ? " 
 
 " Let us hope so," answered the captain, with a 
 glance at the surgeon. 
 
 A dragoon entered and announced the cab. They 
 shook hands once more cordially. Philip hurried 
 out and jumped into the cab, crying: "Hotel Fer 
 ret, Place Pigalle. Drive quickly." The white- 
 haired captain watched him to the end of the street, 
 then turned back into the guard-room with a curse. 
 
 " And you are blessing whom, mon capitaine ? " 
 blandly inquired the surgeon, lighting a cigarette. 
 
 " Louis XVI., of course," growled the other. 
 
 The surgeon blew several smoke rings out of the 
 barred window, removed the cigarette from his lips, 
 whistled a little, and then, looking straight at the 
 captain, he deliberately sang the following remark 
 able couplet : 
 
 " C est Adolphe Thiers qu on me nomme, 
 Sacre nom d un petit bonhomme ! " 
 
 This being rank treason, the captain walked out 
 of ear-shot.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 
 
 PARIS had been singing Rochefort s couplet 
 now for several weeks. 
 
 On the 2/th of the month preceding this, 
 in which our story begins, a proclamation was 
 sent by the National Assembly at Bordeaux to the 
 citizens of Paris, urging them to accept quietly the 
 hard terms of the surrender. The German army 
 would enter Paris, it said, and occupy the zone, from 
 the bridge of Courbevoie, with the Place de la Con 
 corde, and the gardens of the Tuileries as the ex 
 treme limit. 
 
 " If the terms of surrender are not respected," 
 continued the proclamation, " the truce will be bro 
 ken. The enemy, already master of the forts, will 
 seize by violence the entire city. Your property, 
 your public works, your chefs-d oeuvre of art will 
 no longer be guaranteed by the agreement. This 
 misfortune will fall on all France. The terrible rav 
 ages of war, which have not yet passed the Loire, 
 will then reach the Pyrenees. It is therefore the 
 exact truth that with you rests the safety of France." 
 
 Ernest Picard followed this with a despatch. 
 " The Germans offered to renounce entry into Paris 
 if Belfort were ceded to them forever. We replied 
 
 45
 
 46 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 that if anything could console Paris in her suffering 
 and humiliation it would be the thought that our 
 suffering saved Belfort to France." Comforted by 
 this, the Parisians quietly prepared to endure the 
 occupation. The city was ready to accept the terms. 
 The city was, but \hsfaubourgs were not. In many 
 of the suburbs, especially in revolutionary Mont- 
 martre and Belleville, the turbulent population, see 
 ing the city patient, began to call for blood. These 
 quarters had distinct ideas as to whose blood they 
 wanted shed. During the siege, when it was neces 
 sary to repel Invasion at the cost of their own, the 
 battalions of Montmartre and Belleville were not dis 
 tinguished for reckless bravery. There was even 
 some scandal. They were not mentioned enthusi 
 astically in the orders from headquarters, and in 
 some cases disciplinary measures were employed ; 
 and now, when all good citizens had reconciled 
 themselves to the inevitable, these battalions cocked 
 their caps, polished up their gold facings, and yelled 
 for Prussian blood. The mysterious Central Com 
 mittee incited and supported them, proving that the 
 roots of this organization were imbedded in anar 
 chism. It gloated over the prospect of what was sure 
 to follow on the firing of the first shot. The Prussians 
 would throw themselves on the city like mad men ; 
 Mont Valerien would pound the fashionable quarters 
 to powder. What pickings ! during the sack of the city 
 which would follow ! The first and last article of faith 
 for the Central Committee and those whom it repre 
 sented was the ruin of the Bourgeoisie. Montmartre 
 and Belleville listened and howled approval.
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 47 
 
 Then for two nights battalions, hastily formed, 
 but numbering in all thirty thousand men, massed 
 themselves in the Champs Elysees as far as the Ave 
 nue de la Grande-Arme with the avowed purpose 
 of preventing the entry of the Germans, but General 
 Vinoy, who was commander-in-chief of the National 
 Guard, as well as of the regular army, put a stop to 
 this grotesque fanfaronade. 
 
 " The rappel was beaten last night," he said, " but 
 the drummers had no orders, and they will be court- 
 martialed. Some battalions took up arms with 
 treasonable intent, but the majority of the Guard 
 remained quiet. They understood what is the duty 
 of all good citizens." 
 
 This sobered the faubourgs, and when the Ger 
 man newspapers announced that if there should be 
 any disorder in Paris during the occupation, the 
 Prussian army, with King William at its head, would 
 take possession of the entire city, and would bring 
 back Napoleon III. to the Tuileries, that produced 
 a still more profound impression in the suburbs. 
 Belleville was silent, Montmartre thoughtful, and the 
 insidious Central Committee urged the discontented 
 battalions to retire with dignity, but to keep their 
 arms. Next day, not a National Guardsman was to 
 be seen in the Champs Elysees. Then the Central 
 Committee, from its obscurity, spread broadcast 
 throughout Paris this printed circular : 
 
 " Where are the cannon of the National Guard ? 
 Soldiers of the battalions of Belleville and Mont 
 martre ! these cannon are yours. You paid for 
 them, your sisters, wives, and children contributed
 
 48 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 to them, are they to be surrendered to the Prus 
 sians ? " 
 
 It was a thunder-clap from a clear sky. Nobody 
 had thought about the cannon. At that time the 
 National Guard numbered 150,000 men, divided into 
 250 battalions, and each battalion possessed a can 
 non. In spite of General Vinoy s orders, this im 
 mense mass of men felt their power and now they 
 began to clamor. 
 
 " We bought them, they are ours, they shall not 
 fall into the hands of the Prussians ! " the cry went 
 up. 
 
 That was the time when Monsieur Thiers should 
 have shown his teeth. He may have had none ; he 
 certainly did not exhibit any. He temporized. 
 Jules Favre in the preliminaries of peace had begged 
 Bismarck to allow the National Guard to retain their 
 rifles. Bismarck grinned and politely acceded to the 
 request, thinking, "what an ass, this M. Favre." 
 Now the National Guard not only possessed 300,000 
 rifles with sabre bayonets, but was also reaching for 
 250 pieces of cannon and mitrailleuses. Monsieur 
 Thiers thought this amusing. The National As 
 sembly was bickering over the question of permitting 
 the Orleans princes to return, and paid no attention 
 to the cannon. Col. Schoelcher, commanding the 
 artillery, begged Thiers to interefere. Thiers refused. 
 The poor Colonel then attempted to stem the rising 
 tide himself. He offered to give the battalions their 
 pieces if, one by one, each battalion would receive 
 its pieces from him in the Jardin de 1 Archeveche, 
 but they laughed in his face. These 250 cannon
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 49 
 
 and mitrailleuses were assembled in ranks of fifty in 
 the Cours-la-Reine. One day an order came, from 
 whom perhaps no one but the Central Committee 
 knew. The cannon were seized by the National 
 Guard, who, with drums and bugles sounding, 
 marched as convoy, while hundreds of horses 
 dragged the guns up the hill of Montmartre. Thiers 
 was very much amused, it appeared, and the comic 
 journals rang the changes on the joke, until one day 
 a staff officer went up the hill of Montmartre to see 
 these famous cannon, and came back with his hair 
 on end and his sabre between his legs. This startled 
 Monsieur Thiers who was by nature timid, and when 
 the staff officer had told his tale, the hair on Mon 
 sieur Thiers head rose likewise. Two hundred and 
 fifty guns of 7 and 12 concentrated upon Paris ! It 
 was not, after all, very amusing. The city began to 
 look serious. People cast sidelong glances at this 
 hill glittering with loaded guns. " The Prussians 
 have gone," they said to each other, " why are the 
 cannon still there?" Thiers heard these murmurs, 
 and temporized. The public grew more and more 
 anxious, the Radical newspapers began to give 
 Monsieur Thiers advice. He listened and tempo 
 rized. " Take away the cannon," cried the people. 
 "Please give me your cannon," mumbled the chief 
 of the Executive Power. When refused with 
 taunts and jeers of " Come and take them," he 
 turned with a senile snarl on the newspapers and 
 suppressed six, the "Vengeur," the "Cri du Peuple," 
 Henri Rochefort s "Mot d Ordre," "Pere Duchene," 
 and two humble sheets, "La Caricature" and the
 
 5O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Bouche de Fer." This was attacking the liberty of 
 the Press, a bad precedent for the party of order and 
 toleration to establish. General d Aurelle de Pala- 
 dines, the victorious leader at Coulmiers, and actual 
 general in command of the National Guard, worked 
 with heart and soul to restore discipline. The gov 
 ernment arrived in Paris from Bordeaux on its way to 
 Versailles. The people begged that it might stay. 
 Thiers refused and ordered Versailles to be made 
 ready. It would take some weeks to prepare for 
 the reception of the Ministers there, so meanwhile 
 the National Assembly remained in Paris. Thiers 
 occupied the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 
 
 Montmartre was guarded by 500 men and 250 
 cannon. There were no leaders, unless Assi and 
 Lullier could be called such. Leaders were needed, 
 and the stupidity of the government at once fur 
 nished them. The "Third Court-Martial " had been 
 sitting for the last four months in connection with 
 the affair of the 3ist of October. Thiers refused to 
 allow them to retain, for the present, their verdict, 
 and Paris presently received the news that Blanqui, 
 Flourens, Levrault, and Cyrille were condemned to 
 death, Doctor Goupil to two years imprisonment, 
 and Jules Valles to six months . The others were 
 acquitted. The condemned might as well have been 
 acquitted also, as they were all in hiding, and as soon 
 as the news came that judgment had been pro 
 nounced the insurgent National Guard welcomed 
 them with open arms. Thiers might have known 
 this. He may have known it. Gustave Flourens 
 came out of his hole and showed himself publicly in 
 the midst of the Belleville battalions in a fantastic
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 5 I 
 
 costume of major-general and a uniform spangled 
 with gold braid. Regere, Ranvier, Jaclard, and Eudes 
 followed his example. Thiers had given the insur 
 gents their officers. 
 
 But now the President of the Council and the 
 Ministers had become seriously frightened. They 
 sent officers of the artillery from the Pepiniere bar 
 racks to Montmartre to parley. 
 
 " What the h 1 do you want ? " demanded the 
 sentinels. 
 
 " We want the cannon," replied these innocent 
 officers. 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " To distribute them, day by day,to the battalions." 
 
 " Have you the countersign ? " 
 
 " No, two lines from the Governor of Paris will 
 be sufficient." 
 
 " Passez au large! We don t know any Governor 
 but the Central Committee." 
 
 The officers slunk back to Monsieur Thiers. 
 
 " This is very embarrassing," observed that gentle 
 man, and called a council of war. 
 
 Montmartre was evidently a hotbed of conspiracy. 
 One hundred and fifty thousand National Guards and 
 three hundred thousand women and children owed 
 allegiance to the Central Committee, which brooded 
 like a thunder cloud over the hill of cannon. At 
 tracted by the disorder, the worst elements, the very 
 dregs and scum of Paris, were congregating on Mont 
 martre to join the revolt. Mobiles, Franc-Tireurs, 
 renegade Line soldiers, all came and clamored for 
 the uniform of the National Guard and the five 
 francs a day. Where the money came from was a
 
 52 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 mystery. Some spoke of Bismarck, some of an 
 Englishman who scattered twenty thousand francs in 
 French money among the hordes. 
 
 Rain fell in torrents and the famous pieces of 7 
 and the mitrailleuses began to rust. To amuse the 
 Guard, the Central Committee ordered the red flag 
 to be hoisted on the Buttes Chaumont, and down 
 came the tricolor. Paris stared, Monsieur Thiers 
 was almost galvanized into action. Monsieur Roger, 
 chief of staff, urged him to attack with the regular 
 troops and what remained of the loyal National 
 Guard. He said he would and temporized. 
 
 On the morning of the i8th of March, 1871, the 
 people of Paris read this placard pasted over the 
 dead walls of the unhappy city. 
 
 TO THE PARISIANS. 
 
 For some time past certain irresponsible people under 
 the pretext of resisting the Prussians, who are no longer 
 within your walls, have constituted themselves masters of 
 a portion of the city of Paris. They collect arms, throw up 
 intrenchments, mount guard, and force you to aid them by 
 order of a mythical Committee which pretends to govern 
 a section of the National Guard. This is defiance to the 
 authority of the legal government instituted through uni 
 versal suffrage. These men, who have already caused so 
 much evil, and whom you yourselves dispersed on the 3ist 
 of October, under pretence of defending you against the 
 Prussians, who are no longer in Paris, have mounted and 
 aimed cannon which, if fired, would annihilate your 
 houses, your children, and yourselves. If France once 
 believes that the neccessary accompaniment of the Re 
 public is disorder, then the Republic will be lost.
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 53 
 
 Monsieur Thiers wrote well, but two words, con 
 cise and unmistakable, addressed to the disaffected, 
 would have answered the purpose better. 
 
 People read the placard and wondered what was 
 coming next. "It is easy," they grumbled, "to 
 crush those insurgents. One regiment of the Line 
 and horses to drag away the cannon would do it ; 
 manifestos and placards won t." 
 
 This was true. At that late hour, it would still 
 have been easy to quell the insurrection. The insur 
 gents were fatigued, enervated, confused. Discipline 
 was almost entirely wanting. Strife had arisen in the 
 Central Committee, and Karl Marx, the founder of 
 the International Society of Workingmen, from 
 which the Central Committee took orders, was 
 opposed to the insurrection. From England, where he 
 had taken refuge after his condemnation to death 
 at Berlin, he launched thunderbolts of invective 
 against the revolt. This puzzled and discouraged 
 the National Guard. Thiers believed that this 
 famous letter of Marx would end the trouble. Mon 
 sieur Thiers nourished another illusion. He imag 
 ined that at the first drum-roll the loyal party of 
 Paris would spring to arms. He gave his orders. 
 About two o clock in the morning, the drums crashed 
 out in the streets in every quarter of Paris. It was 
 the call to arms, the rappel. Not a battalion arose. 
 At three o clock the alarm was repeated. Paris 
 slept. At five o clock, at dawn, the third and last 
 appeal thundered along the streets, while the bugles 
 rang from every square. People were astonished 
 and puzzled. How were they to know who was
 
 54 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 beating the alarm ? After their last response to the 
 call, General Vinoy had threatened them. If they 
 responded now, would he not carry out his threats? 
 
 Thiers, pressing his nose against a window pane in 
 the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, saw his aides-de 
 camp come galloping into the courtyard. 
 
 "Well?" he said, when they entered. 
 
 " Scarcely two hundred National Guards have 
 responded," was their report. 
 
 " Gentlemen," observed Monsieur Thiers, with 
 solemn conviction, to the members of his Cabinet 
 who entered at that moment, " this affair really 
 begins to look serious." 
 
 Then a gamin passed along under the window 
 singing : 
 
 " C est Adolphe Thiers, qu on me nomme, 
 Sacre nom d un petit bonhomme." 
 
 A great stillness fell on the company. A staff 
 officer coughed gently behind his immaculately 
 gloved hand. 
 
 At two o clock in the morning, the sky was one 
 dazzling sheet of clustered stars. A soft wind blew 
 over the fortifications, bringing with it a breath of 
 awakening spring. The streets were deserted, the 
 houses dark and silent. Behind the Palais de 1 In- 
 dustrie, a small camp-fire smouldered among the 
 trees of the Park. 
 
 At half-past two, the Avenue Malakoff and the 
 Place de 1 Etoile were suddenly filled with shadowy 
 marching legions. At the same hour, masses of 
 silent men issued from the Bois de Boulogne and
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 55 
 
 swept up the avenue toward the Champs filysees, 
 and from the Palais de 1 Industrie cavalry appeared, 
 followed by the clink ! clink ! of moving cannon. 
 It was General Lecomte s brigade under orders from 
 Thiers on their way to capture the cannon on the 
 heights of Montmartre. 
 
 Silently the troops moved down the deserted 
 avenue, lighted only by the stars, swung across the 
 Place de la Concorde, through the rue de la Paix, 
 and then separating into detachments took the small 
 winding streets which lead to the hill of Montmartre. 
 The cavalry halted in the Place Pigalle before the 
 fountain. The /6th of the Line occupied the 
 rue Houdon and the rue 1 Abbaye. A mitrail 
 leuse was planted to sweep the rue des Martyrs. 
 Then General Lecomte sent out a detachment of 
 police to seize the important post of the Moulin de 
 la Galette, which guarded the cannon. The police 
 crept up in the darkness, until one of them stum 
 bled and fell with his sabre and rifle clanking on 
 the pavement. 
 
 " Qui vive ? " shouted the startled insurgent sentry. 
 
 A shot answered him and he fell. The post ran 
 out but were seized and disarmed. The guard at 
 No. 6 rue des Rosiers were captured asleep at their 
 posts, and the troops and police closed in about the 
 cannon. At five o clock in the morning General Le 
 comte sent word to General d Aurelle de Paladines 
 that the cannon were taken, and sappers were de 
 molishing the intrenchments, and he begged him at 
 once to bring horses to remove the cannon to the 
 city below. De Paladines came himself, and wanted
 
 56 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 to know what General Lecomte meant ; Thiers had 
 given him no orders for horses. 
 
 " Good God ! " cried General Lecomte, " has he 
 neglected to send the horses?" 
 
 D Aurelle de Paladines shouted to his men to 
 move the cannon by hand, and the soldiers at once 
 began to drag a piece of 7 through the mud and 
 down the steep, slippery street to the foot of the 
 hill. A great crowd of men, women, and children 
 had gathered to watch them, and from every house 
 National Guards ran out, rifle in hand, crying : 
 " Thiers has betrayed us ! A coup d etat ! Le 
 comte is robbing us of our cannon ! " 
 
 De Paladines sent messenger after messenger in 
 hot haste to Thiers, begging and imploring him to 
 send horses and harness. 
 
 " It will take my men a day to move seven or eight 
 of these guns by hand," he wrote. " Our force is 
 small, and our men have not been fed. We have no 
 provisions, and every second may mean life or death." 
 
 At eight o clock the equipages and horses had not 
 arrived. The crowd grew more menacing. The 
 regular troops, tired and hungry, waited for their 
 food to arrive. General Vinoy came up, demanding 
 the reason of delay, and more messengers were de 
 spatched to Thiers. 
 
 " Treason ! Robbery ! Down with Vinoy ! Down 
 with Paladines ! Down with Thiers ! Down with the 
 cannon thieves ! " yelled the crowd. 
 
 " Go to h 1," replied a small bugler of the 76th, 
 and the crowd set up a shout of laughter. 
 
 " Sonny," cried a handsome young woman, in
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 57 
 
 sabots and a red skirt, " do you want this cake ? " 
 and she handed the bugler a bit which the poor 
 little fellow devoured eagerly. 
 
 " Good for you ! " shouted the crowd. " Wait ! 
 You are our brothers ! If you are hungry we will 
 get you food ! " 
 
 In an instant loaves of bread and bottles of wine 
 were brought to the troops who, half-starved, re 
 ceived them with delight. In vain their officers in 
 terfered and threatened. " We are hungry, the 
 National Guard give us food, why should we fire on 
 them ? They are our brothers ! " 
 
 " Vive la Ligne ! " shouted the crowd. 
 
 "Vive la Garde Nationale!" shouted the Regu 
 lars. The soldiers of two companies of the 76th, 
 recently recruited from Belleville, began to frater 
 nize with the crowd. An officer ordered them 
 back, but they laughed in his face. A throng of 
 women and children pressed around the artillerymen 
 who were moving the cannon away. The artillery 
 men resisted, laughing, but the crowd hoisted them on 
 their shoulders, crying " hurrah for the artillery ! " 
 and others dragged the cannon back to the intrench- 
 ments. A company of foot chasseurs were ordered 
 to fire on the National Guard. The rifles fell to a 
 level, but women ran out and covered their husbands 
 and brothers with their own bodies. 
 
 " Fire ! " shouted the captain ; not a shot re 
 sponded. Other troops were ordered to clear away 
 the constantly increasing crowd, but they refused. 
 Their officers threatened them with sabre and re 
 volver, but they stood doggedly inactive.
 
 58 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " The National Guard has fed us. We will not 
 fire on women ! " they replied. 
 
 " Hello you ! the handsome soldier with the brown 
 moustache ! " cried a pretty girl from the crowd. 
 " Will you stay with us ? " 
 
 " Will you give me something to eat ? " said the 
 soldier, seriously. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, food and drink." 
 
 The soldier accepted a bit of bread and a glass of 
 wine. 
 
 " To the health of the Republic," he replied, and 
 drained the glass. 
 
 " Vive la Republique ! Vive la Ligne ! " cried 
 the people. 
 
 The officers were powerless. Some threw down 
 their swords and walked away weeping with rage 
 and mortification. Some broke their swords over 
 their knees and flung them into the street. Sud 
 denly drums were heard and the Federal battalions, 
 colors flying, bayonets shining, poured into the street 
 from every side. General Lecomte shouted to them 
 to halt, but they pressed toward the regular troops, 
 followed by the crowd. In vain Lecomte ordered 
 his troops to charge and clear the street. The com 
 pany which was guarding the "Tower of Solferino," 
 a cafe, raised their rifles, butt upwards, and refused 
 to budge. 
 
 " Death to Vinoy ! Death to Thiers ! " howled 
 the rabble that had followed the Federal battalions. 
 A crashing volley drowned their howls. The Na 
 tional Guards had fired on the Line.
 
 AN HISTORICAL INTERLUDE. 59 
 
 " Tiens ! " said a gamin, pausing before the body 
 of a soldier of the i/th foot chasseurs which lay in 
 a pool of blood beside one of the cannon, " here is 
 another of Monsieur Thiers friends." Then he went 
 
 away whistling : 
 
 " C est Adolphe Thiers qu on me nomine, 
 Sacre nom d un petit bonhomme."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH," 
 
 SO began the day of the famous i8th of March. 
 Landes, lying back in his cab, knew noth 
 ing of what was passing on Montmartre, and 
 kept urging the fat old cabby to hurry. The re 
 quest was received with stolid indifference. After 
 a while the cabman jerked his head half-way reund 
 and, addressing vacancy, called Heaven to witness 
 that he was doing his best. This broke the ice, 
 and Landes stepped over the cushions in front and, 
 without further ceremony, took a seat beside the 
 driver. 
 
 " It is pleasanter up here," he observed., 
 
 " Now, Monsieur," exclaimed the cabman, horri 
 fied, " you know this is against regulations." 
 
 " I don t deny it," replied the young man, light 
 ing a cigarette and passing another to the driver. 
 
 " He does n t deny it ! " cried the cabby, raising 
 both hands to Heaven. He immediately lowered 
 his hands, however, accepted the cigarette, and 
 whispered confidentially: "Monsieur must be a 
 student of the Quarter?" 
 
 " That s exactly what Monsieur is." 
 .60
 
 THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH" 6 1 
 
 "All wickedness is permitted to students." 
 
 " Shut up, and look out where you re driving," 
 said the American, pleasantly. They had just 
 escaped overturning a young man who stopped in 
 his tracks and cursed them foully. It was Weser, 
 but Landes did not recognize him in the uniform of 
 a National Guard. The cabman, utterly unable to 
 forego such an opportunity for invective, drew rein 
 to reply. Landes took his reins away and sent the 
 whip whistling about the horse s ears. 
 
 " Pas de blague," he said. " Depechez vous ! 
 Allons ! en route ! " 
 
 In vain the cabby shouted for assistance, and 
 besought help from a lounging Line soldier. He 
 cried " Police ! " and " Au secours ! " but the passers- 
 by only laughed. They rattled over the Pont-au- 
 Change and passed the Louvre, where Landes, tired 
 of his amusement, restored the driver his reins and 
 whip with a threat for the future if he lingered by 
 the way. In the Place du Carrousel, a battalion of 
 the Line stood at ease before the Pavilion de Rohan, 
 but allowed them to pass without question. 
 
 The cabman had recovered his spirits and was 
 chanting merrily as they entered the rue des 
 Martyrs. 
 
 " Monsieur is a gay monsieur," he chuckled, wink 
 ing pleasantly at Landes. 
 
 " Thank you, my friend, my spirits are unim 
 paired." 
 
 " I also am gay ! " caroled the cabby. " I love " 
 
 His voice was lost in the ringing report of a rifle, 
 and he tumbled clean out of his seat to the pave-
 
 62 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 ment. The horse reared, trembled, and dashed up 
 the street at full speed. Landes seized the fallen 
 reins and sawed away at his mouth. He heard 
 people shouting, he caught a glimpse of passers-by 
 scattering in all directions, then there was an 
 other shot, and he saw Pagot, in the uniform of a 
 National Guard, lowering a smoking rifle from his 
 shoulder. Before he had time to think, he was 
 blocks away, the terrified horse galloping in the 
 direction of the rue Blanche. A policeman ran into 
 the street and tried to seize the horse s head, but 
 was struck and hurled out of the way. Then they 
 bore down upon a cordon of troops who shouted 
 and brought their bayonets to a level, but the horse 
 plunged through these and, swerving into the gutter, 
 crashed against a lamp-post and sank in a quivering 
 heap. Landes kept right on over the horse s head 
 and sat up several paces farther along, frightened, 
 astonished, but unhurt. 
 
 " What did you do that for ? " demanded an offi 
 cer running up and frowning at the American. 
 
 " Now you don t suppose I did it for amuse 
 ment ? " retorted Philip, angrily. He heard a burst 
 of laughter near him, and turning saw a tall artillery 
 officer sitting on his horse and regarding him with 
 amusement. The laughter was infectious, and Philip 
 smiled and picked himself up. He had recognized 
 the tall artilleryman who had paid him the pretty 
 compliment in the Cafe Cardinal, in the quarrel with 
 Rigault and Sarre. 
 
 " Monsieur Landes, pray pardon me. I laughed 
 at your retort, not at you," said the officer, gravely.
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 63 
 
 " I don t mind," cried Landes, trying to find some 
 broken bones, and not finding any he walked over 
 to the horse. 
 
 " Poor thing," he said, " somebody must shoot it." 
 
 A soldier stepped forward and gave the wretched 
 brute its coup-de-grace. Landes, finding that his 
 own injuries were confined to the knees of his 
 trousers, picked up his cane and hat and looked 
 around. 
 
 The artillery officer had dismounted and now came 
 up to him. " I see, Monsieur, that you are unin 
 jured. Permit me to offer you my felicitations and 
 my services." 
 
 "You are very kind," said Landes. " I don t ex 
 actly know what to do. I ought to go down to the 
 rue Blanche and point out the murderer of my 
 cabman, but I must go to the Place Pigalle." 
 
 The lieutenant in charge of the infantry cordon 
 pricked up his ears. 
 
 " Murder? " he asked. Then Landes told the two 
 officers his story. 
 
 " I am dazed yet, it happened so suddenly," he 
 finished, " and he was in the uniform of a National 
 Guard, but 1 know him, Tribert." 
 
 " In the uniform of a National Guard, you say? " 
 
 "Yes, with a captain s galons." 
 
 " Was there any excitement in the street before 
 that ? " 
 
 " None that I observed. People were walking 
 about just as usual." After a pause he added : " I 
 notice that the streets here are empty except for 
 the military."
 
 64 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " We have just captured the cannon at Montmar- 
 tre ! " said the artillery officer. " If you are going 
 to the Place Pigalle, permit me to offer you my 
 escort." 
 
 " Thank you, but that will not be necessary." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it will be," smiled the officer. " You 
 cannot get into the Place Pigalle unless a staff officer 
 goes with you." 
 
 " Then you are very kind, and I accept most 
 gratefully." 
 
 The lieutenant of the cordon saluted them with 
 great punctiliousness. " Mon capitaine," he said, 
 " I will send a corporal and four men to the rue 
 Blanche. We will get this Tribert if he is within 
 our zone." 
 
 " My name is Alain de Carette," said the artillery 
 officer, turning to Landes. " I know that yours is 
 Philip Landes, because you said so in the Cafe Car 
 dinal. I simply require your word of honor that you 
 will report to me as witness against this Tribert 
 when he is caught." 
 
 " You have my word of honor, mon capitaine," 
 said Landes. 
 
 " It is sufficient." Then he threw his bridle to a 
 fantassin, saying, " take the horse to the War Min 
 istry, I will go on foot " ; and not heeding the 
 polite protests of Landes, took his arm and drew 
 him along the steeply ascending hill. " I seldom 
 enjoy the luxury of walking," he laughed. 
 
 " You are very good indeed," replied Landes, 
 warmly. 
 
 " I like Americans," said the officer. " Here is 
 the Place Pigalle.
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 6$ 
 
 A squadron of cavalry was massed before the 
 fountain in the centre of the square, and vedettes 
 stood at every corner. The Boulevard beyond was 
 occupied by a detachment of gendarmes on foot and 
 a few policemen. There appeared to be no civilians 
 in the streets. The houses were silent and the shut 
 ters closed. 
 
 They advanced toward the mounted sentry near 
 est them. He saluted de Carette s uniform, and 
 they passed across the square toward the fountain 
 where a group of officers had dismounted and were 
 examining a plan which a young fellow of the Rifle 
 battalion had chalked on the pavement. De Carette 
 saluted and Landes raised his hat. 
 
 "Tiens! C est Alain!" cried the senior officer 
 cordially, and the others looked up with eager greet 
 ings. Landes was presented and permitted at once 
 to pass the lines. 
 
 " Monsieur Landes wishes to visit the Hotel 
 Ferret," said de Carette. 
 
 " It is empty. The last person to leave was the 
 landlord," said one of the officers. " There he is 
 now," he continued, pointing to a cafe on the corner, 
 " that man looking out of the window." 
 
 " But the guests ? " cried Landes, alarmed. 
 
 " Two of them rode away just as we came into the 
 square this morning. Don t you remember?" turn 
 ing to another, who nodded in reply : 
 
 " The pretty girl and her maid ? Yes, I remem 
 ber ; the landlord, Ferret, was with them." 
 
 " Send a trooper for the landlord," said de Carette ; 
 " wait a moment, Mr. Landes, we will have Monsieur 
 Ferret over here."
 
 66 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 But Philip could not wait, and with his heart beat 
 ing anxiously he hurried across the street to the 
 caf6. The curtains were lowered, the cafe was 
 almost empty. There was only a young man writ 
 ing at a desk and a waiter idling aimlessly about. 
 When Philip entered, the young man at the desk 
 glanced up, and immediately dropped his head again. 
 The light was uncertain, his motion was so quick 
 that Philip could not be sure, and yet there was 
 something familiar about his air. 
 
 " Is Monsieur Perret here? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," began the waiter, " no, Mon 
 sieur," he stammered. The man at the desk had 
 turned his back to Landes and was looking at the 
 waiter. All Landes could see of him now was the 
 top of a curly black head over the desk. 
 
 " Monsieur Perret must be here. I saw him from 
 the square," said Philip. The waiter stole a glance 
 at the man behind the desk, and shook his head. 
 
 "Berry? oh, Perret. I understood Monsieur to 
 say Berry. No, Monsieur Perret is not here," and 
 picking up a towel he began to polish the tops of 
 the tables. 
 
 " Are there any guests in the Hotel Perret ? " de 
 manded Landes angrily. 
 
 " No," said the waiter with alacrity, seeming to 
 feel himself on certain ground, " Monsieur Perret 
 drove the last two away in his carriage " the legs 
 of the chair in which the man at the desk was sitting 
 scraped on the floor, and the waiter stopped short. 
 
 " Was it Mademoiselle de Brassac and her maid 
 who went this morning? "
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH" 6/ 
 
 " Yes no." The waiter had stepped close to 
 the man at the desk, and Landes heard a low mur 
 mur. 
 
 " No, it was not Mademoiselle de Brassac. Ma 
 demoiselle de Brassac and her maid left last week," 
 said the waiter, glibly. 
 
 " You lie ! " said Landes, in a low voice, stepping 
 toward the man at the desk. 
 
 " Mais, Monsieur," cried the waiter, eagerly, " he 
 ought to know ; he is the son of Monsieur Ferret." 
 At the same moment, Philip sprang forward. 
 
 " Imbecile ! " said the man at the desk through his 
 teeth, and striking the waiter out of the way, he slid 
 out of his chair and slipped through a door just be 
 hind, but not so quickly as to prevent Landes, who 
 rushed forward at the same moment, from getting a 
 view of his face. It was Georgias, the Greek. Philip 
 tried the handle of the door ; it would not open. 
 Then he took a small table and used it as a batter 
 ing ram. He dashed out the panels, one by one, 
 until the frame fell inward and he sprang through 
 into a courtyard from which there was an opening 
 on the next street. Philip looked up and down the 
 street ; it was quite empty, and he ran back into the 
 cafe. The waiter had disappeared. Landes searched 
 the cafe, found it entirely deserted, returned to the 
 desk where Georgias had been writing, and noticed 
 there an unfinished letter, beginning, " Mon cher 
 Raoul." This he thrust into his pocket along with 
 a revolver which he found in a top drawer, then he 
 began a rapid examination of the cafe again. He 
 found a staircase at last, climbed it, and hurried
 
 68 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 through several floors of empty apartments. The 
 doors were all open, the floors were bare, not a 
 stick of furniture was visible. He hurried back to 
 the caf6, and going to the big window pulled open 
 the shutters and looked across the square. The 
 cavalry had mounted and were moving, with some 
 appearance of excitement, toward the Boulevard. 
 
 " Captain de Carette ! " he shouted, but the tramp 
 ing of the moving squadron drowned his voice, and 
 the artillery officer did not hear. Philip bitterly re 
 gretted the time he had lost in searching alone by 
 himself. He went out and crossed to the Hotel 
 Ferret. There his furious bell-calls and raps were 
 unanswered. A window faced the street in a recess 
 just beside the door. He took out the revolver, 
 broke the glass with the butt of it, and climbed 
 through. The house was perfectly dark. He 
 stumbled over chairs and tables toward a faint ray 
 of light which filtered through a closely curtained 
 window, tore back the curtains, threw open the 
 window, and looked around. He was in the office 
 of a small, but handsome hotel, furnished in taste, 
 the walls and ceiling panelled in solid oak. Through 
 a glass door he saw a vestibule, and the lower steps 
 of a staircase. He picked a candle out of the con 
 cierge s letter-safe, lighted it, and unhooking every 
 key from the key rack, opened the glass door and 
 mounted the stairs. On the first landing he stopped 
 and selected two keys whose numbers corresponded 
 with the numbers on the doors. The keys fitted, 
 and he entered without trouble. The apartments 
 were empty. He threw the keys away, and mounted
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 69 
 
 the steps of the second floor. Here there was but 
 one apartment. He found the key and entered, but 
 before he had taken one step into the darkened 
 room, the candle was struck from his hand, and 
 something sprang by him. How he managed to 
 get to the window and open it he could not have 
 told, but at last the sunlight broke into the room and 
 he turned to face whatever awaited him. It was a 
 large yellow cat which glared at him, with enormous 
 eyes, from a niche over the door. Her spine was 
 arched, her tail exaggerated. The candle lay on the 
 floor below. Philip burst into a nervous laugh. At 
 the sound of his voice in the empty apartment there 
 came a whine from the bed. Philip went there 
 and saw a small setter puppy curled up on the 
 lace counterpane, trembling and making violent 
 overtures of conciliation. He called the little crea 
 ture, and it came slowly toward him with a 
 coquetry which is understood to perfection by 
 puppies, and finally rolled over on its back under 
 Landes feet, both forepaws raised beseechingly. 
 Philip bent and took it in his arms. The cat, see 
 ing this, relaxed the rigidity of her tail, transformed 
 her back from an arc-de-triomphe into its normal 
 curves, and licked her singed whiskers. Landes, with 
 the puppy in his arms, began a cautious tour of the 
 apartment. On the bed he noticed a valise, half 
 packed. It contained an officer s undress jacket and 
 some underwear. Beyond it, on the floor, lay a rid 
 ing crop, boots, spurs, and a dress sword in its case. 
 He passed into the next room and found that it had 
 been recently occupied, for the gas was burning low
 
 7O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 and toilet articles lay scattered over the tables. A 
 curtain hung across the door at the farther end. A 
 sudden draft stirred this curtain and a subtle odor 
 rilled the room. He recognized chloroform ! In an 
 instant he drew the curtain and threw open the door. 
 On the floor lay a woman, tied and gagged. 
 
 The puppy, when Landes dropped him, bounded 
 toward the woman but halted suddenly and began 
 circling around her, barking. Landes stood, not know 
 ing what to do ; the puppy retreated between his legs. 
 The shades were partly raised, but the windows were 
 closed and the stench of chloroform made him dizzy. 
 He flung open the window, went to the woman, and 
 unloosened the towel about her face. A sponge fell 
 from her lips and the smell of chloroform became 
 almost unbearable. Holding his breath, he cut the 
 twine that bound her hands and feet and drew her 
 out on to a balcony, which was under the long French 
 window. Sunlight fell across her face and gilded her 
 brown hair, gathered neatly in a cap such as is worn 
 by ladies maids. She was dressed as if ready to go 
 out, for she wore gloves and a thick cloth jacket. In 
 one hand she held, tightly clenched, the handle of a 
 reticule, which had evidently been cut away with a 
 knife ; the other hand was open and limp and the 
 deadly pallor of her face showed that help had prob 
 ably come too late. Leaning over the railing of the 
 balcony which looked into the square, in search of 
 help, he saw some hussars watering their horses at 
 the fountain. He shouted to them ; they heard, 
 mounted, and galloped into the street directly under 
 the balcony.
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." /I 
 
 " Is there a surgeon there ? " he called down. 
 
 " No," shouted back the lieutenant in charge, 
 "what s up? 
 
 "Get a surgeon, it s life or death." 
 
 " I understand surgery," cried a sub-officer, after a 
 brief consultation v/ith his superior. 
 
 " Then get in that broken window and come up 
 here quick. Send for an ambulance and a surgeon." 
 
 A hussar struck spurs into his horse and rode away 
 toward the Boulevard, and the rest of the troop, after 
 watching the sub-officer scramble in at the window, 
 went back to the fountain and dismounted. The 
 sub-officer came springing up the stairs, looked 
 sharply at Landes, saluted mechanically, and sat 
 down on the balcony beside the woman. 
 
 "Chloroform! Oh!" 
 
 Landes offered his help but it was declined, and he 
 stepped back into the room. It was a dressing-room. 
 Beyond, at the end of a short hall, the door of a bed 
 room stood partly open. He crossed and looked in, 
 lighted a match and held it above his head, then 
 groped his way to the window and threw it wide 
 open. The room was empty ; the odor of chloro 
 form pervaded everything, but the breeze from the 
 open window soon drove that away. As he turned 
 back into the room, the first thing he saw was the 
 photograph of a French officer, in the uniform of the 
 Hussars of the Guard. The officer was the Count 
 de Brassac, and beneath, in the quaint, precise writ 
 ing of a French school-girl, he read, " My darling 
 father, August 1st, 1869." 
 
 For the first time he distinctly recalled the face
 
 72 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 of Jeanne de Brassac. Until now he had only- 
 remembered her vaguely as a pretty, graceful 
 school-girl, sister of his comrade, Victor. Now, 
 with a shock, memory awakened, and every inci 
 dent of that Christmas week was recalled. The 
 drawing-room and the warm firelight, the carv 
 ing on the chairs, the boyish gestures of Victor, 
 and Jeanne, the violet eyes, the white throat, the 
 shape of her hand as it lay on her mother s shoulder. 
 He recollected every detail of her dress ; he recalled 
 her voice as she answered her father and went to the 
 piano to sing his favorite song of " Carcassonne." 
 With a great effort he collected his thoughts and 
 concentrated them on the present. She was gone 
 and her maid had been chloroformed. Why ? The 
 diamonds ! It was for the diamonds that they had 
 murdered her father. Had they also murdered her ? 
 He could hear the officer in the next room working 
 over the inanimate body of the servant, who still 
 clutched in her stiffened hand the fragment of a 
 reticule. Had the diamonds been in that ? He sat 
 miserably trying to find some clue to the tragedy, 
 his head in his hands, his heart throbbing painfully, 
 but the face of Jeanne de Brassac rose incessantly 
 before his eyes, and his thoughts would wander 
 back to the firelight and the sweet voice that sang 
 " I never shall see Carcassonne." He heard the sub- 
 officer leave the room and descend the stairs and 
 return almost immediately with several others, who 
 moved about with a banging of sabres and jingle of 
 spurs on the tiled floor. The puppy and the cat, 
 who had taken refuge in this quiet room from the
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH" 73 
 
 confusion in the other, suddenly began a complicated 
 game of romps. Philip felt a tenderness for these 
 creatures, her pets, and he called them both to him. 
 The cat at first stood on the defensive, but he soon 
 had her lying on the bed asleep. He placed the 
 puppy beside her, and going to the door looked 
 into the next room. The woman was being carried 
 toward the stairs on a stretcher. A group of hus 
 sars and officers stood looking on. 
 
 " Is she alive ? " asked Philip. 
 
 " At present," replied a gendarme, shortly. 
 
 " Monsieur, I am sorry," said the sub-officer, " but 
 you must consider yourself my prisoner." 
 
 " Prisoner ! " 
 
 " I am sorry," repeated the sub-officer. 
 
 Through the window Landes saw his acquaintance 
 of the morning, de Carette, standing on the balcony, 
 and reached him in two strides. 
 
 " What ? " cried de Carette, " nonsense," and went 
 back into the room with his arm locked in the Ameri 
 can s. " I am responsible for this gentleman, 
 Faure," he said to the sub-lieutenant, and passed 
 with Landes into the bedroom. 
 
 " My dear fellow, you look like a corpse ; this 
 chloroform is nasty stuff." 
 
 " It is n t the chloroform," replied Philip. 
 
 " I know it," replied the other, coolly. " Do you 
 want to confide in me? " 
 
 " Yes," said Philip, and told him all, ending by 
 showing him the unfinished letter left by Georgias 
 in the cafe. " It s terrible," he cried, pacing the 
 room in deep excitement.
 
 74 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " I fear there can be but one meaning to that 
 letter," said de Carette. 
 
 Philip stopped in his aimless walk and approached 
 the bed. The Frenchman had been absently strok 
 ing the cat s yellow fur, while he listened, the puppy 
 jealously trying to crowd his hand away. 
 
 " And these ? They must be her pets, I suppose," 
 said Philip. His voice was unsteady. The French 
 man went to the door and gave an order. Then he 
 came back and laid a hand on Philip s shoulder, say 
 ing, " we will find Mademoiselle de Brassac. They 
 dare not harm her." 
 
 " They killed her father." 
 
 De Carette s steel-blue eyes glittered. " A brave 
 officer, an old man ; cowards ! " 
 
 A trooper came in carrying a large covered basket. 
 De Carette gently lifted the cat and the puppy into it. 
 
 " We will take care of her pets until we have 
 found her," he said. " May I send them to your 
 address, Monsieur ? " 
 
 " You are very good," said Landes, warmly. 
 
 " Take them carefully," ordered the Captain. 
 The trooper saluted. The cat set up a desolate 
 squall, the puppy whined anxiously, the trooper 
 saluted once more with a grave face and marched 
 out, the basket dangling from his long arm, ear- 
 piercing sounds and a violent agitation of the basket 
 cover contrasting with his composure. Standing in 
 the balcony and looking over, they saw him enter a 
 cab driven by a policeman and rattle away. A 
 military ambulance also was slowly moving toward 
 the hospital.
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 75 
 
 " Will the girl live ? " asked Landes. 
 
 " She is dead," replied de Carette. 
 
 " Then Heaven only knows how we can find out 
 anything about this accursed business. Hark! 
 What s that?" 
 
 It s the explosion of a mitrailleuse! They are 
 fighting on Montmartre ! " exclaimed the artillery 
 officer. At the same moment a bugle sounded in the 
 square below, the hussars mounted and trotted 
 toward the Boulevard. De Carette unslung his field 
 glasses. 
 
 " Look there ! Look at the Line soldiers run 
 ning ! " said Philip, anxiously. 
 
 The Boulevard which formed the northern side of 
 the square, was suddenly filled with red-legged infan 
 try in the wildest disorder. A lieutenant of hussars 
 rode into their midst shouting and gesticulating, his 
 sword in one hand, his revolver in the other. 
 
 "Is it possible that they are running away?" 
 observed de Carette, in disgust. 
 
 At a signal from the lieutenant, the hussars 
 formed in two lines across the Boulevard ; the panic- 
 stricken fantassins darted between their horses and 
 began rallying behind the cavalry. Close on their 
 heels followed another demoralized mob of infantry 
 in dark blue and green. 
 
 "The Rifles are running too! What s got into 
 them ? " muttered the Captain. " See there ! Look ! 
 Here comes a general and his staff! It can t be 
 General Lecomte ! It can t be ! What in h 1 are 
 they running away for? " 
 
 The clear song of the bugles floated up from the
 
 7 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Boulevard below, and through the tumult and cries, 
 a calm, steady voice rang out : 
 
 " Draw sabres ! trot ! gallop ! charge ! ! " 
 
 The hussars were off like the wind, and in a 
 moment came the crash of the collision. 
 
 " They ve struck the mob," said Captain de Ca 
 rette, briskly, "I m going! Good-bye, my friend." 
 
 " I m going with you ! " said Landes, following him 
 down the stairs two at a time. 
 
 " Vinoy is my chief. I Ve got to join him, but if 
 I were you I would n t get into that mob, Monsieur 
 Landes," said the Captain as they reached the street 
 and started across the square. 
 
 " Oh, do you see ? Do you see ? " groaned Philip ; 
 " the hussars have been cut to pieces ! Here comes 
 what s left of them ! " 
 
 There was little left of them. The remains of the 
 squadron came tearing back, horses foam-covered 
 and bloody, troopers in tatters and reeling in their 
 saddles. They wheeled past the fountain and bore 
 down on Landes and de Carette. The lieutenant 
 was there with a crimson gash across his face, and 
 one arm dangling helplessly in his sky-blue jacket. 
 He pulled up with his uninjured hand as he came 
 abreast of de Carette and burst into a laugh. 
 
 " Hell has just been let loose," he said, " and is 
 coming this way." 
 
 " What s the trouble, Jacques? "asked the Captain, 
 quietly. 
 
 " The Line troops have gone over to the National 
 
 Guard ! d n them ! Their treachery has lost us 
 
 the cannon. Just fix this arm, will you ?" He leaned
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 
 
 from his saddle, and de Carette took his handker 
 chief and passed it under the shattered arm. 
 
 "Then the Line has betrayed us?" he said 
 huskily. 
 
 " Yes, the 88th. They are righting like devils, 
 shoulder to shoulder with the canaille ! We just 
 struck them ! Thanks, that s all right, until I can get 
 to a surgeon. You d better mount behind me and 
 get out of this." 
 
 " Where is the general?" 
 
 " Running to keep warm. Look over there. 
 There they come, the d d treacherous black 
 guards ! " 
 
 At that instant the Boulevard across the square 
 was swept by the mob. National Guards, renegade 
 Line soldiers, and the fine fleiir of that hotbed of 
 anarchy, Montmartre, passed like a seething tempest 
 through the street, howling, shrieking, rolling along 
 in one turbulent, irresistible torrent. The few loyal 
 Line soldiers and the remnants of the Rifle battalion 
 went down beneath it. Landes saw a little group 
 of police and foot gendarmes stem the tide for a 
 second or two, then break and run toward the foun 
 tain followed by a swarm of National Guards. 
 
 " Miserable ragamuffins ! " cried the lieutenant of 
 hussars, " I ve a mind to tickle their rouflaquettes 
 again ! " 
 
 " Ride off, Jacques ! Spare your men ! It s no 
 use ! " said de Carette, drawing his revolver. " Come ! 
 Give this gentleman one stirrup and me the other. 
 We ve got to go now or not at all ! Gallop ! " 
 
 The lieutenant appeared not to hear him. His
 
 78 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 eyes sparkled, and he began to curse softly to him 
 self. Suddenly with a furious gesture he wheeled 
 his horse. 
 
 " Forward ! Forward ! 39th Hussars ! " he shouted 
 to the broken fragment of his squadron, "trot! 
 gallop ! charge ! " Away plunged the handful of 
 troopers, charging madly into the tumult, and Landes 
 heard the lieutenant s voice above the terrible din : 
 " Down with the canaille ! Now, my children, all 
 together ! for France ! " 
 
 The shock checked the rush for an instant. The 
 sabres of the little troop rose and fell like flashes of 
 lightning ; then the masses closed in on them. De 
 Carette seized Landes by the wrist, and dragged 
 him through the open door of the Hotel Ferret, into 
 the courtyard and to the street beyond. 
 
 The street was deserted, and they walked along 
 for some distance without speaking. The Captain 
 returned his revolver to its place and unaffectedly 
 wiped away the tears which had sprung to his eyes. 
 
 " Jacques was crazy ! " he said at last. " A brave 
 man, but a bad soldier. That charge was criminal ! 
 We need all the loyal men we have left." 
 
 " Of course he s dead," said Landes. 
 
 "And all his troop. It was criminal, criminal ! " 
 
 Coming again to the outer Boulevard they stopped 
 short. The sidewalks were crowded with people 
 and with soldiers of the National Guard, marching 
 along in groups singing the Marseillaise, but no dis 
 order was visible. Philip followed de Carette across 
 the street to a long line of wooden huts which had 
 been put up as temporary shelter for the troops
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 79 
 
 during the siege. The Captain stepped behind one 
 of them, and turning to his companion said : 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " I am going with you," answered Philip, " that is, 
 if I may." 
 
 " Certainly not," said de Carette, sharply. 
 
 Landes drew back. 
 
 " I mean," said the other quickly, "on account of 
 my uniform. It is a little only a little, you 
 know " 
 
 " Unsafe?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Unsafe for you ? You are in danger? " 
 
 The Captain shrugged his shoulders. Looking 
 Philip pleasantly in the eyes, he said : " Come, 
 please leave me before you get into hot water. 
 People are watching us, don t you see ? " Landes 
 glanced around and saw that several savage-looking 
 men had crossed over and were standing near them, 
 talking in whispers and casting sullen glances towards 
 de Carette s uniform. 
 
 "Good-bye," murmured the Frenchman, "and 
 don t shake hands. I am going to find Vinoy s 
 staff if I can." He turned on his heel without a 
 salute and started down the wooden line of huts. 
 Landes overtook him in two strides, laid one hand 
 on his shoulder and held out the other. 
 
 "What do you take me for, Captain de Carette?" 
 
 " For a very rash young man," rejoined the other, 
 irritably, " and a true comrade," he added with 
 warm feeling, " whose head," he continued with a 
 shrug, " I should not like to see broken "
 
 80 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 "What s this ? " interrupted Philip. 
 
 They had been walking toward the lower end of 
 the wooden shelter. A middle-aged gentleman was 
 standing quietly before one of the huts there. A 
 man had approached him and was saying: 
 
 " I think, Monsieur, that you are General Clement 
 Thomas? " 
 
 " I am," replied the gentleman, drily. 
 
 Several passers-by hearing the name of Cle ment 
 Thomas stopped and gazed curiously at him. A 
 lieutenant of the National Guard was among them, a 
 very young lieutenant, whose commission was evi 
 dently of recent date, for he had sewed galons on 
 the sleeves of his overcoat, and he made an unneces 
 sary racket with his sword. 
 
 " Ah," he cried insolently, " so you are Clement 
 Thomas? " 
 
 Already a group of curious people had formed 
 around the General. 
 
 " What could have induced him to come to Mont- 
 martre? " whispered de Carette in Landes ear. 
 
 The lieutenant rattled his sword and looked 
 fiercely at Thomas. " Had the General come to put 
 himself at the head of the movement ? " 
 
 " No, mesenfants," said Clement Thomas, looking 
 around on the group eyeing him, " I am getting old. 
 I have sent in my resignation." 
 
 " Then what are you doing here ? " cried the lieu 
 tenant, in a menacing tone. 
 
 "A spy," muttered the people, edging nearer. A 
 soldier of the National Guard, grey-headed and sun 
 burnt, his rifle en bandoultire, came up and asked 
 what was the matter.
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH" 8 1 
 
 " We are looking at Clement Thomas," said a by 
 stander, with careless impudence. 
 
 " Clement Thomas here ? " 
 
 " Le voila," said the man, jerking his thumb tow 
 ard the group where Thomas stood, quiet and self- 
 possessed, but a little pale. The Federal drew him 
 self up. 
 
 " Then we must shoot him ! " he said with quiet 
 ferocity. 
 
 General Thomas heard and turned white. The 
 Federal s eyes met his. More people ran up. The 
 name of Clement Thomas passed from lip to lip. 
 
 " Remember 1848 ! " cried an old man, shaking his 
 fist at the General. 
 
 " So there you are, assassin of the people!" growled 
 the menacing voices. 
 
 " General Thomas, do you remember the Faubourg 
 St. Antoine?" called a renegade marine. The 
 clamor increased. 
 
 " Did you shoot enough people in the rue Mar 
 guerite, General Thomas ? " some one bawled. 
 
 An old man pushed into the circle and faced the 
 General. 
 
 " Canaille ! You sat on your horse in the rue 
 Saint-Avoie and laughed as you cried : String me 
 all those ragamuffins together on a bayonet! 
 Cursed butcher ! " 
 
 " Remember Montretout ! " howled a wretched- 
 looking Mobile, and lunged at Clement Thomas 
 with his bayonet. De Carette was too quick for him. 
 With a stroke of his sabre he severed the Mobile s 
 hand at the wrist. The man dropped in a dead 
 faint, but the crowd fell upon de Carette. Landes
 
 2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 struck two or three of them in the face, and then 
 they turned on him too. 
 
 " Death ! Death ! Down with the spies ! " they 
 yelled. 
 
 Clement Thomas, de Carette, and Landes were 
 now crushed together in the centre of a throng, 
 which pressed so closely upon them that the bayonet 
 thrusts and sword cuts delivered at them passed 
 over their heads and the mob wounded each other. 
 
 " Assez, nom de Dieu ! " shouted an officer of the 
 National Guard, warding off the bayonets with 
 difficulty. 
 
 " Arrest them ! Arrest them ! " cried the Federals, 
 " We can shoot them later." 
 
 " Death to them ! " thundered the mob. 
 
 A man galloped up on a strong grey horse and 
 pushed his way right into the middle of the crowd. 
 It was Dardelles, commandant of the Cavaliers of 
 the Republic, an insurgent company of ill repute. 
 He laid about him with the flat of his sabre, and 
 forcing a path to General Thomas, seized him by 
 the collar. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he cried. 
 
 The old man stammered something unintelligible, 
 but his voice was lost in the roar from the crowd : 
 
 " Clement Thomas ! Clement Thomas ! " 
 
 " Then I arrest you in the name of the Republic ! " 
 cried Dardelles, and, clearing a way for himself at 
 the point of his terrible sabre, marched into the street 
 with his prisoner. Six Federals followed dragging 
 Landes, and six more escorted de Carette, who 
 walked with head erect and uniform in tatters.
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 83 
 
 " If anyone attempts to kill the prisoners before 
 they are judged, I 11 pass my sword through his 
 body," snarled Dardelles. A thousand voices re 
 plied in one mighty shout : " Death ! " An insurgent, 
 one Captain Ras, placed himself beside Dardelles 
 with drawn revolver. 
 
 " We are not butchers," he said to the mob, " let 
 them be judged by a tribunal." 
 
 " You dare not use your pistol," sneered a franc- 
 tireur, and aimed a blow at Landes with the butt of 
 his rifle. 
 
 Captain Ras seized the uplifted gun with one hand. 
 
 " You ass ! " he said, and blew out his brains. 
 
 " Thank you," said de Carette to Ras, but was 
 sternly bidden to hold his tongue and move faster. 
 
 Notwithstanding this swift example, blows were 
 constantly aimed at the prisoners from the savage 
 mob surrounding them. 
 
 Dardelles slashed a man over the mouth with his 
 sword and laughed at his awful cry. 
 
 " Now you have a beautiful mouth. Grin, my 
 friend," he sneered. At the same moment, Clement 
 Thomas received a bayonet thrust in the forearm, 
 and Captain Ras struck the would-be murderer a 
 blow with the hilt of his sword which tore one eye 
 from its socket and crushed in his face like an egg 
 shell. 
 
 " Will you learn that I keep my word ? " he cried 
 to the mob, which answered with a bellow. 
 
 At that instant a battalion of the National Guard 
 arrived and surrounded the prisoners with a hedge 
 of bayonets. Landes and de Carette now marched
 
 84 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 side by side, and could exchange a word or two 
 without being threatened by their guards. 
 
 "Where are they taking us? " murmured Philip, 
 wiping the bloody foam from his lips. 
 
 " My poor friend, to the Central Committee. It 
 is sitting in the Chateau Rouge, rue Clignancourt, 
 they say." 
 
 At the intersection of the Boulevard Magenta and 
 the old exterior Boulevard, the crowd was greatly 
 increased and the air was filled with the cry of 
 " Death ! Death ! " 
 
 When they arrived at the Chateau Rouge, the 
 prisoners were thrust into a room filled with Na 
 tional Guards. They were not allowed to converse 
 together, and the Federals passed the time in heap 
 ing insults on Clement Thomas, who sat as if stunned, 
 his head drooping on his breast. An old captain, 
 wearing the medal of July, turned his attention to 
 Landes, and assured him with unction that he had 
 assisted at every revolution for forty years, and that 
 Philip s affair would soon be regulated in front of a 
 dead wall. 
 
 It was a little after ten o clock in the morning, and 
 sunlight flooded the shabby room. A pigeon flew 
 down from an opposite roof and strutted cooing to 
 and fro along the window ledge outside, until a sol 
 dier tried to catch it by the legs and it flew away. 
 
 For an hour they sat there, a butt for the soldiers, 
 who proudly proclaimed that they were a Belleville 
 battalion. De Carette raised his eyebrows ironically 
 at this, and nearly paid for it with his life, for a sol 
 dier fired at him point-blank. Then a quarrel arose
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH" 85 
 
 among the soldiers as to what should be done with 
 the prisoners. The Central Committee was not, after 
 all, it appeared, during this altercation, in the Cha 
 teau Rouge. Some wanted to push the prisoners into 
 the garden, and get the thing over with. Others 
 insisted upon their being led upstairs to wait for the 
 Central Committee. At last, after a bitter wrangle, 
 the three prisoners were seized and dragged upstairs 
 to the first floor. There they were received by a 
 captain of the /9th battalion, who invited them to 
 enter, very courteously, and immediately slammed 
 the door in the faces of their Belleville captors, to the 
 latter s unfeigned astonishment. 
 
 General Thomas dropped into a seat, bewildered 
 and exhausted, and apparently did not hear the 
 kindly questions which the captain of the 79th ad 
 dressed to him, but de Carette replied with equal 
 courtesy and the two officers exchanged names. The 
 captain of the 79th was one Mayer, a journalist. He 
 told Landes that he had a son, a prisoner in Ger 
 many. He also said that General Leqomte had been 
 taken prisoner, and was under guard in the next 
 room. 
 
 " I have served on his staff," said de Carette, 
 sadly. " Will they shoot him ? " 
 
 " I trust they will shoot no one/* said the Federal 
 officer, earnestly ; but de Carette smiled and walked 
 to a window opening on the garden. 
 
 " That wall is too convenient," he said, with a dry- 
 laugh. 
 
 As he spoke, the door opened and an officer en 
 tered, guarded by two soldiers of the National
 
 86 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Guard. It was Captain Frank, of the i8th Chasseurs- 
 a-pied de marche, who so valiantly defended General 
 Lecomte when the crowd fell upon him. He bowed 
 gaily to de Carette, but was led to a further room 
 and locked in. And now other prisoners began to 
 arrive : Monsieur de Pousarges of the i8th Foot 
 Chasseurs, an officer of the 89th de marche, two 
 captains of the Ii5th of the Line who had been 
 abandoned by their men in the Gare du Nord, and a 
 captain of the 84th in mufti, who had just returned 
 from captivity in Germany, and had been arrested as 
 he got out of the train that morning on the ridiculous 
 charge of being a spy. 
 
 It was three o clock in the afternoon, and still the 
 mysterious Central Committee had not appeared. 
 De Carette linked his arm in Philip s, and walked to 
 the window for the hundredth time. 
 
 " Hallo," he said, glancing into the garden, " this 
 looks ominous." 
 
 A file of National Guards were fixing their bayo 
 nets to the barrels of their rifles and forming along 
 the garden path. 
 
 " Looks as if we were going to take another jour 
 ney, does n t it? " he said. 
 
 Landes stared at the soldiers without replying. 
 
 " Courage," whispered de Carette. 
 
 " I could stand it, I think," said Philip, " to die 
 decently, but I am afraid of the mob. If we are to 
 be led through the streets again, I *d rather end now, 
 down there in the garden. My God ! I can t go 
 through the mob again," he murmured, trembling 
 from head to foot.
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH" 8/ 
 
 " Courage, my dear comrade," said Alain. His 
 voice was affectionately caressing. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Captain Mayer, " an escort is 
 waiting to take you to the Central Committee. 
 Word has been received that they expect you at the 
 Buttes-Montmartre. Have the goodness to descend 
 to the garden." 
 
 De Carette passed his arm through Philip s again 
 and felt it shaking. 
 
 " I won t shame you," said Landes, as they went 
 down the stairs, " only I can t help feeling sick. 
 This sort of thing is new to me," he added, trying 
 to laugh. 
 
 " You would never have known it if you had been 
 less faithful to me, comrade," said Alain. 
 
 When they entered the garden, they saw General 
 Lecomte for the first time. He stood alone, heavily 
 guarded. The prisoners all saluted him, even the 
 Federal officers bowed to the brave old General, who 
 punctiliously returned each salute, but the National 
 Guard cursed him and the prisoners, and promised 
 them the fate of General Brea and his aide-de 
 camp. 
 
 And now began the terrible journey through 
 Montmartre. A heavy mist hung over the hill, hid 
 ing its summit, and through it the drums and bugles 
 of the escort sounded dull and spiritless. Cries and 
 groans surrounded them from the furious mob. 
 Death ! Death ! " they screamed, and blows began 
 to fall among the prisoners. An officer in front of 
 Landes sank to the pavement with his skull split 
 open. Another, a mere boy, was pinned to the
 
 88 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 ground by a bayonet thrust in the back, and his 
 cries were heartrending, until an old hag beat his 
 brains out with her wooden shoe. The mob had 
 tasted blood and raged howling for more. The offi 
 cers defended their prisoners with the strength of 
 despair, but another victim was added to the list be 
 fore the cortege reached the sloping streets of the 
 Buttes- Montmartre. Here herds of maddened 
 women cursed them from the windows and shook 
 brawny fists in their faces. In the midst of an in 
 fernal din, the escort halted before a small two-story 
 house on the summit of the hill in the rue des 
 Rosiers. The prisoners were pushed into the court 
 yard, and afterward into a room on the ground floor. 
 The crowd attempted to follow, but the courtyard 
 was small, and the mob numbered thousands. A 
 shot was fired at the prisoners as they entered, but 
 nobody was touched. 
 
 General Lecomte demanded to be led before the 
 Committee. The Federal officers replied that the 
 Committee had not yet arrived, but was expected 
 every moment. 
 
 " Don t be in such a hurry ! " grinned a franc- 
 tireur, with a hideous grimace. " There is plenty 
 of time to die." 
 
 " Sale cochon ! " yelled a deserter from the Line, 
 trying to reach Clement Thomas with his bayonet, 
 " you gave me ninety days police cell ; I give you 
 eternity ! " 
 
 The officers defended their prisoners with unmis 
 takable devotion, but they were few against many. 
 Someone in a red shirt climbed on to the wall and -id
 
 " THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH" 89 
 
 dressed the mob. He begged them to nominate a 
 court-martial or else to wait for the Central Com 
 mittee. He told them that they were about to 
 commit a cowardly crime, and disgrace the young 
 Republic for which they were shouting so loudly. In 
 vain. 
 
 " Tu parle d or, mais il nous faut du sang," said a 
 deserter of the Line, with a brutal laugh. 
 
 " Beware !" shouted the orator, " the soldiers of 
 the Republic should have clean hands. This is 
 butchers work ! " 
 
 " Et ta sceur ! Est ce qu elle est propre ? " bellowed 
 a butcher from La Villette. " You are right, my 
 friend, this is butchers work. Death to the bour 
 geoisie ! " and he struck the man a blow with his fist 
 which knocked him into the garden. That was the 
 signal. Howling like wolves, the mob attacked the 
 windows on the first floor, breaking in the sashes 
 with their rifle butts, and thrusting their bayonets 
 into the room. The prisoners stood crowded close 
 together, with white faces, but not a man flinched. 
 Alain de Carette supported Clement Thomas with 
 one arm, and warded off blows with the other. 
 General Lecomte stood quiet and stern, with folded 
 arms, beside Landes, hardly deigning to avoid the 
 bayonet thrusts which fell just short of his breast. 
 Then by the garden gate the mob broke in with dread 
 ful cries, and a shocking scene began. De Carette 
 received at once a blow which sent him reeling to 
 the floor, the mob fell upon Clement Thomas, and 
 the dull sound of blows succeeded the clank of bayo 
 nets. At last they got him to the garden and pushed
 
 90 THE RED REPUBLIC, 
 
 him against the wall. Twelve rifle shots rang out, 
 not in a volley, but one after another, and after the 
 twelfth shot, as the old man still breathed, a cor 
 poral of the Belleville battalion stepped forward, and, 
 shoving his revolver into the dying man s ear, scat 
 tered his brains over the grass. And now the mob, 
 drunk with blood, returned and fell upon General 
 Lecomte. Twenty times the other prisoners, with 
 generous devotion, tore him away from the bloody 
 hands that snatched at him. Landes fought des 
 perately, but at last a blow in the chest felled him, 
 and, unable to rise, he dragged himself from under 
 the trampling feet, into a corner. There, leaning 
 back, faint with pain, he saw General Lecomte seized 
 and dragged into the garden, and heard how he was 
 shot to pieces against the wall. 
 
 " Good-bye, Philip ! " cried Alain de Carette, stag 
 gering to his feet ; " they are coming back for us." 
 
 " I can t die yet," stammered Philip ; " I won t 
 die ! " and he made a desperate effort to rise. Sud 
 denly a furious crash of drums filled the street out 
 side, and a stream of National Guards poured into 
 the court filling the garden, forcing the peloton of 
 execution into the street. 
 
 " Give us the prisoners ! " yelled the crowd. 
 
 " Fix bayonets ! Clear the yard ! " 
 
 The scene was so hideous that Philip, who had 
 struggled to the window and was looking out, felt 
 he was losing his senses, but de Carette s hand tight 
 ened on his. 
 
 " We have a chance," he said. " These are troops 
 from Sceaux."
 
 "THE EIGHTEENTH OF MARCH." 9! 
 
 Inch by inch the Sceaux battalion cleared the 
 yard, and then the street immediately in front. 
 
 "You see the consequences," said the Colonel, 
 shaking his revolver, and forcing his horse into the 
 mob, " of trifling with me and my troops." He 
 leaned over, seized a burly ruffian by the collar, and 
 swinging him off his feet, deliberately broke his neck 
 over the pommel of his saddle. The mob had al 
 ready begun to sober a little, to realize what it had 
 done, and to fear consequences. More than one 
 brute, red-handed from his share of slaughter in the 
 garden, had slunk away, and was skulking on the 
 outskirts of the crowd, still held there by the fascina 
 tion of his crime ; but at this merciless exhibition of 
 physical strength they hesitated no longer, and in 
 half an hour the Sceaux battalion, drums and bugles 
 sounding, prisoners in their midst, marched unmo 
 lested out of the rue des Rosiers, and shortly after 
 ward entered the Chateau Rouge without striking a 
 blow. 
 
 So began the famous i8th of March, 1871. The 
 Central Committee had made its bow, the curtain 
 was rising on a drama called the " Commune," 
 with all Paris for a stage, and Monsieur Thiers as 
 prompter.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A CO WARDL Y FLIGHT. 
 
 WHEN the convoy of prisoners arrived in 
 the rue Clignancourt, the bells of Mont- 
 martre were sounding five o clock. A wet 
 fog had settled over the city, the streets grew slip 
 pery with greasy mud. The prisoners inarched 
 into the courtyard, and an officer with note-book in 
 hand walked along the line, taking names and ad 
 dresses. When he came to Alain de Carette, he 
 stopped in confusion. 
 
 " Good evening," said Alain, sarcastically ; " shall 
 I give you my name ? " 
 
 " Good evening, Monsieur de Carette," said the 
 other, in a low voice ; " it is not necessary, thank 
 you." He passed on to the next prisoner, who was 
 Landes, hesitated, and turned back to Alain. " Is 
 there anything I can do for Monsieur," he asked, 
 looking at the ground. 
 
 " You are not in a position to confer favors," re 
 plied Alain, contemptuously. 
 
 " I am chef de bataillon," said the man, misunder 
 standing him. 
 
 "And my former valet," replied de Carette. 
 
 " I do not forget that you were very kind to me," 
 said the man, doggedly ; " I 11 do what I can for 
 
 92
 
 A COWARDLY FLlGfff. 93 
 
 you, and for your friend." He took Philip s name 
 and passed on along the line. Then the prisoners 
 were conducted to the second floor of the Chateau 
 Rouge. Almost immediately an officer entered, 
 calling for Captain de Carette and " le nomm " Philip 
 Landes. When they stepped forward, he led them 
 down the stairs again and into a narrow passage, at 
 the end of which a man sat behind a table writing. 
 It was Jaclard, chef de bataillon of the National Guard. 
 
 " Are you the two prisoners ? " he inquired, ner 
 vously. 
 
 They gave their names, and he nodded and began 
 to question them awkwardly. Landes and de Carette 
 answered with hope in their hearts again. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said Jaclard, fumbling in an 
 embarrassed manner with his pens and paper, " you 
 are at liberty to go. The Central Committee won t 
 come to-night." 
 
 "Are we free ? " stammered Philip. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And the others ? " demanded Alain. 
 
 " They will have to wait here to-night. The Cen 
 tral Committee will judge them to-morrow ; I have 
 no time to bother with them to-night," he snapped 
 pettishly, and walked out, slamming the door. The 
 two friends gazed at each other. Was this true ? 
 Were they free, or was it a trap to shoot them down 
 as they entered the court ? Philip and Alain thought 
 of this at the same moment. 
 
 " I 11 go first," said the latter. 
 
 " No, I will," insisted Philip, but de Carette pushed 
 through the door before him and sprang into the
 
 94 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 yard. It was silent and empty. " Come, Philip ! " 
 he whispered, and together they passed the gate and 
 went into the street. 
 
 " If we re recognized now we re done for," mut 
 tered de Carette. My uniform will probably do the 
 business for me, anyway ; you must leave me now." 
 
 " I won t go," replied Philip, angrily. 
 
 "All right, we 11 pull through together, is that a 
 cab ? " 
 
 " It has no number ; I 11 ask" said Landes, and 
 ran across the street while de Carette drew back into 
 the shadow. The driver was not in sight. Philip 
 looked about, and then quietly stepped into the 
 driver s place and beckoned to Alain. " Jump in 
 side, quick," he whispered, as the latter came up. 
 Alain did so, and leaned back out of sight. Philip 
 gathered up the reins, and the horse moved off at 
 once. Unquestioned they passed a strong post of 
 National Guards on the exterior Boulevard and 
 turned into the city at a smart trot. On they rattled 
 past more National Guards and a small park of can 
 non, through noisy streets filled with excited people, 
 but nobody interfered with them, and at last they 
 reached the Grand Boulevard in safety. That part 
 of the city was perfectly tranquil. People sat smok 
 ing in front of all the cafes, precisely as if they knew 
 nothing about the bloody tragedy of the rue des 
 Rosiers. In front of Tortoni s, gay groups of ladies 
 and gentlemen sipped their cordials, and street fakirs 
 thronged the sidewalks and pressed their wares as 
 usual. All the theatres were open and blazing with 
 gas, vehicles crowded along the Boulevard des
 
 A COWARDLY FLIGHT. 95 
 
 Italiens, and the terraces of the Cafe de la Paix were 
 packed. 
 
 " It seems incredible," said Philip, looking down 
 at de Carette, who thrust his head out of the win 
 dow and motioned him to stop ; " it seems incredible ! 
 I don t believe the city knows any thing about Mont- 
 martre." 
 
 " Evidently not," said Alain, cynically. 
 
 "Where shall I drive, Monsieur?" asked Landes, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Drive to the War Ministry. I must report there 
 at once." Landes drove on through the crowd of 
 omnibuses and cabs. In a few minutes they drew 
 up before the Ministry of War in the rue St. Domi 
 nique. They left the cab standing before the porte 
 cochere of the War Ministry, and Philip followed de 
 Carette into the court and up the stairs to the 
 second landing. Here a sentinel halted them, took 
 de Carette s name, and sent a servant away to find a 
 staff-officer. Presently they were ushered into a long 
 apartment where three officers sat with their heads 
 together over a small table by a window. The three 
 officers were old General Le Flo, Marshal Mac- 
 Mahon, and General Borel. 
 
 " Well," said General Le Flo, smiling pleasantly 
 at Alain, " you look like one of my youngsters." 
 
 " I have served on your staff, mon Ge ne ral," re 
 plied Alain, saluting. " At present I am with Gen 
 eral Vinoy." 
 
 " Where is General Vinoy ? " inquired Marshal 
 MacMahon, who had only that day returned from 
 captivity in Germany, and knew nothing of the
 
 96 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 expedition to Montmartre. Before Alain could 
 answer, General Borel spoke up sharply : 
 
 " You have been on Montmartre ? " 
 
 Alain told his story. 
 
 The three officers sat silent ; MacMahon tugged 
 at his grey moustache and glanced at Borel, who 
 gnawed his lip and tore bits of paper from the map 
 before him. Alain and Philip saw that the War 
 Ministry was hearing of the disaster for the first 
 time, and yet he felt certain that the news had 
 been received by M. Thiers. 
 
 " Well," demanded General Le Flo, " what is 
 your opinion ? Is it a riot or a revolution ? " 
 
 " Mon General," replied Alain, " it is a riot in 
 which blood has been shed. I was on your staff 
 during the 22d of January in the Place de I Hotel de 
 Ville. The two riots are much alike, only this one 
 has not been checked " 
 
 " Who is this gentleman ? " interrupted Borel, 
 brusquely. 
 
 " Monsieur Landes, mon G6n6ral. An American, 
 and an eye-witness ; and a brave and loyal friend 
 who compromised himself for me, and who helped 
 us to defend General Lecomte in the rue des Ro- 
 siers until defence was no longer possible." 
 
 " Monsieur belongs to a brave nation," said Mac 
 Mahon, looking kindly at Philip. 
 
 The door opened and two men entered. The 
 three generals rose and saluted respectfully, but the 
 smaller of the new-comers motioned them to be 
 seated, and turning to his companion began speak 
 ing in a high, thin, querulous voice.
 
 A COWARDLY FLIGHT. 97 
 
 " Monsieur Calmon, send for that aide-de-camp 
 from General Pointe de Gevigny, and tell Du Faure 
 to come to-morrow morning." Then sitting down 
 in an arm-chair before the fireplace, he removed a 
 pair of enormous glasses, polished them with his 
 handkerchief, and replaced them on his nose. 
 
 Philip had seen more than one picture of that lit 
 tle white-headed gentleman, and he knew that he 
 stood in the presence of Monsieur Adolphe Thiers. 
 
 " I have a tooth-ache," said the Chief of the Execu 
 tive Power in a high-pitched voice. " Why does n t 
 that aide-de-camp come ? " 
 
 General Le Flo walked over and whispered some 
 words in the President s ear. 
 
 " Eh?" cried Thiers, peeping at de Carette over 
 Le Flo s shoulder. " Dear me ! Let him tell his 
 story again." 
 
 " But surely," said Marshal MacMahon, " this is 
 not news to you ? You must have sent somebody 
 to Montmartre for information since eight o clock 
 this morning ? " 
 
 " Nobody was sent. The cannon had been cap 
 tured," snapped the President, peering at Alain 
 through his round glasses. " Tell your story, 
 Captain." 
 
 Alain related his experience again briefly, and 
 paused. 
 
 " Have you anything more to say ? " inquired 
 Thiers. 
 
 " If the opinion of an artillery officer " began 
 
 Alain, modestly. 
 
 " Go on," said Thiers, impatiently.
 
 98 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 11 There was one cause," resumed Alain, dryly, 
 " for the failure to remove the guns this morning 
 after they were retaken. No horses were sent to re 
 move them. There was one reason why this failure 
 resulted in disaster. No food had been sent for the 
 soldiers. The infantry were in position for hours 
 without having breakfasted and without any prospect 
 of breakfasting." 
 
 " What kind of infantry is that ? " growled Mac- 
 Mahon, " which mutinies for want of a single break 
 fast ? " 
 
 " It is an infantry demoralized by mixing with 
 civilians, mon General." 
 
 " Civilians ! " broke in General Le Flo. " Canaille ! 
 Montmartre canaille ! Belleville ragamuffins ! " 
 
 Thiers glanced restlessly from face to face and 
 made some inarticulate noises. 
 
 " Mon Ge~ne>al ! " said Alain to Le Flo, " it is not 
 for me to tell you the causes of our disaster. You 
 know better than I that we officers have lost prestige 
 with our troops through defeat. In the field they 
 still obey us from habit and a sense of danger, but 
 here in the city an officer no longer represents 
 safety." 
 
 " It is true," said General Le Flo, " neither se 
 curity nor authority belongs to a government which 
 may cease to exist to-day or to-morrow. How can 
 officers command troops in its name ? " 
 
 Thiers looked angrily at the speaker. 
 
 " Et puis," he said, turning brusquely to Alain. 
 
 " I fear I am intruding on your valuable time,"said 
 de Carette, stiffly, irritated by the President s manner.
 
 A COWARDLY FLIGHT. 99 
 
 " No, no, continue, mon enfant," said Le F16. 
 
 Alain went on quietly, 
 
 " Those troops which surrounded Montmartre 
 were really nothing but National Guards in Line uni 
 form. Young and raw they fraternized readily with 
 anyone who brought them food. The people gave 
 them bread, wine, meat, tobacco. They let the 
 gamins handle their rifles. When their officers 
 interfered, they cursed them first and then assaulted 
 them." 
 
 " The cavalry charged until cut to pieces, and the 
 artillery galloped off with its guns to a place of 
 safety," put in Thiers. 
 
 The three Generals exchanged glances at this 
 proof that the President was well informed about 
 the whole affair. General Le F16 replied : 
 
 " It is always the infantry that disbands first in a 
 revolt, the cavalry next, the artillery last. An in 
 fantryman throws away his weapon and runs, but a 
 trooper is less willing to abandon the horse that car 
 ries him, and which he considers his property. As 
 for the artillery, it is composed of human units 
 around a centre, a massive, formidable arm ; it disin 
 tegrates with difficulty. 
 
 "After all," said General Le Flo, " it appears that 
 the only regiment which has revolted is the 88th 
 miaxikry-de-marche, mostly new recruits from Belle 
 ville and Montmartre." 
 
 At that moment Calmon, chief of Thiers private 
 cabinet, entered with the aide-de-camp from General 
 Pointe de Gevigny. Thiers nodded to them and 
 then turned brusquely to de Carette.
 
 100 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Neither General Lecomte nor General Clement 
 Thomas has been shot. I have just seen Messieurs 
 Langlois and Lockroy, and they swear that they 
 will answer for the lives of both those Generals." 
 
 " I affirm that they were shot this afternoon," 
 cried Alain, hotly. 
 
 " But," insisted Thiers, who had evidently known 
 the truth all the while, and only wished to gain time 
 before acknowledging it, " but how do you know 
 this?" 
 
 " I have already told you. I saw the Generals 
 dragged out by the mob, and heard the shots that 
 killed them." 
 
 " Did you see them shot ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then it s not proven," said the President, turn 
 ing abruptly away. " Where s the aide-de-camp 
 from General Pointe de Gevigny? " 
 
 De Carette flushed at this insult, but stepped 
 back and gave place to the aide who now advanced 
 and saluted. 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " demanded the 
 President. 
 
 " From Cherbourg, mon President." 
 
 " From whom ? " 
 
 " From General Pointe de Gevigny and General 
 Farre." 
 
 " And your name ? " 
 
 " Xavier Feuillant, Ordnance officer to General 
 Farre. 
 
 " And what does he want ? " 
 
 " General Farrc sends me to say," said the aide,
 
 A COWARDLY FLIGHT. IOI 
 
 much disconcerted by Thiers manner, " that Gen 
 eral Pointe de Gevigny commands at Cherbourg a 
 corps of thirty-five thousand men, with all facilities 
 for transportation to Paris within forty-eight hours. 
 Their discipline and courage are unquestioned. The 
 General offers you his support, and promises that 
 within forty-eight hours not an insurgent will remain 
 in Paris if you accept his offer." 
 
 Thiers flushed and muttered something about 
 meddling busybodies, then, turning on the aide with 
 a sneer, he cried : " General Pointe-de Gevigny is 
 crazy ! I thank him for his good intentions, which 
 are of no use." 
 
 The aide looked as though he would like to sink 
 through the floor; the officers present were thunder 
 struck. 
 
 " I shall form an army which will be quite suffi 
 cient for our needs," continued Thiers ; "you can 
 retire." Noticing de Carette, who still stood at at 
 tention, his uniform hanging in shreds upon him, the 
 President added : " Go, Monsieur, change your uni 
 form and return here at eight o clock." Alain 
 saluted, and, taking Philip s arm, went away. 
 
 They had walked some distance down the street 
 before either spoke. Then Alain asked : 
 
 " What do you think of that ? " 
 
 " I should not like to say what I think of it." 
 
 " H-m ! " said the young soldier ; " on the con 
 trary, I should very much like to say what I think 
 of it." 
 
 The mob had possessed themselves of Alain s 
 watch, purse, and sabre. Philip s money and watch
 
 102 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 had, by chance, not been taken. After the experi 
 ence which they had shared together neither thought 
 of separating. It wanted still five minutes to seven. 
 If de Carette was due at the War Ministry in an 
 hour, so, they each took for granted, was Landes 
 also. Meanwhile, they were torn, and dirty, and 
 starved, neither having washed or eaten since the 
 early morning, and between them they could hardly 
 have mustered one whole garment. They found a 
 bath, sent a messenger to Alain s quarters and the 
 studio in rue Notre Dame for fresh clothes, and 
 met again in half an hour to dine hastily at the near 
 est restaurant. It would not do to keep M. Thiers 
 waiting. They dared not linger over their meal, 
 still less did either venture to speak about some 
 thing that had been in his mind all day, tormenting 
 him with keen anxiety and self-reproach. The dis 
 cussion of Jeanne de Brassac s affairs and the prob 
 able consequences of their headlong forgetfulness 
 in rushing away from the Hotel Ferret without 
 leaving a soul to guard it, must be postponed until 
 after the interview with Thiers, and they made such 
 dispatch that the clocks were striking eight when 
 they presented themselves again at the War Ministry. 
 
 The officer of the guard saluted. 
 
 " There is nobody here, Captain de Carette." 
 
 " Nobody here ! " 
 
 " Not a soul." 
 
 " The President ? the Ministers ? " 
 
 " The Ministers have left. M. Thiers has gone to 
 Versailles." 
 
 " What the devil "
 
 A COWARDLY FLIGHT. 103 
 
 " Precisely. I heard Monsieur Thiers say : Paris 
 has abandoned us, we will abandon Paris. Let her 
 stew in her own juice. " 
 
 " He said that?" 
 
 " I heard him, Captain." 
 
 Alain seized the officer by the arm and drew him 
 into the deserted hall. " This is Monsieur Landes, 
 my friend and comrade. Tell us what you know," 
 he said ; " it s like a cursed nightmare." 
 
 " This is all I know. I was inspecting the guard 
 down here. M. Thiers sat with his Ministers above 
 there in the long salon, pretending to hold a council. 
 I did not see it myself, but those who did, say he 
 would not listen to a word. He shut up MacMahon 
 and the old Minister of War, and snubbed Borel 
 and Appert, and yet he had nothing to propose him 
 self. General Vinoy arrived with his staff. They 
 left their horses at the gate surrounded by a squad 
 ron of light cavalry who had served as escorts. 
 Every minute messengers arrived with fresh news 
 of the disaster on Montmartre, and brought in wit 
 nesses of the murders of the Generals. Suddenly, 
 there came cries from the direction of the Esplanade. 
 It was a battalion of the National Guard marching 
 to the Hotel de Ville carrying a red flag, and shout 
 ing, Vive la Commune ! I was down here, I 
 did n t see him, but they say Thiers squealed like 
 a trapped rabbit, and ran out into the hall. From 
 there I myself heard him give the order to evacuate 
 Paris. Monsieur de Carette," said the officer, bit- 
 terly, "with my handful of men I could have scat 
 tered that battalion, red flags and all."
 
 IO4 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Well," said Alain, through his clenched teeth? 
 " and what did the petit bonhomme do next? " 
 
 " He ran back for his hat and the next minute 
 came tumbling down the stairs. General Vinoy/ 
 he called out, I will take your escort. He jumped 
 into his coup6, and when he was seated he took out 
 a blank book, like one who has forgotten a trifle, 
 and scribbled something. It was an order to abandon 
 Mont-Valerien." 
 
 " Sainte Vierge ! " groaned de Carette, " this is 
 criminal." 
 
 " Mont-Vale rien, the one impregnable fortress be 
 tween Paris and Versailles ! " said Philip, under his 
 breath. 
 
 " Then," continued the lieutenant, passionately, 
 " then he stuck his head out of the window and 
 called the escort around him. Gallop ! Gallop ! 
 he cried to the officer in charge. As long as we 
 are on this side of the Pont de Sevres we are in 
 danger ! and the squadron departed at full speed, 
 leaving General Vinoy without an escort." 
 
 De Carette turned crimson, and struck the table 
 with his clenched fist. 
 
 " This is the man who proposed to reconstruct 
 France. The same man who prepared the revolu 
 tion of 1830, and when they were righting in Paris, 
 ran away to Enghien ; the same man who prepared 
 the revolution of 1848, and when the revolt flamed 
 up stammered out : The tide rises ! and fled in 
 disguise." 
 
 Everything was in disorder, seals and papers were 
 lying on the tables, books and precious documents
 
 A COWARDLY FLIGHT. 10$ 
 
 scattered loosely over the desks, the doors of cabinets 
 swung wide open. 
 
 " How many men have you, Lieutenant?" 
 
 " Thirty." 
 
 " Can you hold the gate ? " 
 
 " To the last man." 
 
 " Good ! Close windows and bar shutters, let them 
 be beaten in before you open. I will attend to 
 these," motioning toward the litter of books and 
 papers. " Go now." 
 
 The lieutenant saluted and withdrew. Alain 
 dropped his head in his hands but only fora moment. 
 Springing up, he carried, with Philip s help, all the 
 books, papers, and seals to the cabinets, and closed 
 and locked the doors. It was midnight before they 
 finished. Then Alain called a Huissierand told him 
 to put up two camp beds in the long salon. 
 
 Leaving Philip to sleep if he could, de Carette 
 went down to the court below where the little hand 
 ful of troops were stationed. 
 
 " When have your men eaten, Lieutenant?" 
 
 " Not in twenty-four hours. There were no orders, 
 no money, and no provision." 
 
 De Carette took some gold pieces from his pocket 
 and handed them to a corporal. " Run over to the 
 nearest restaurant and send food," he said. " Keep 
 a good watch and call me at the first alarm." 
 
 " When he returned to the long salon, Landes was 
 standing on the balcony. Alain went and stood be 
 side him and they looked out together for a moment. 
 The night was calm, not a gunshot echoed in the 
 city.
 
 I06 THE RED REPUBLIC, 
 
 " Philip," said de Carette, " the Hotel Ferret is 
 unguarded." 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " When did you first remember that we had rushed 
 away and left the de Brassac apartments to the 
 mercy of all the thieves in Paris? " 
 
 " Just when we came out on the old Boulevard by 
 the sheds. I was going to speak of it and ask what 
 we should do, when the people began to eye your 
 uniform. After that it was no use." 
 
 They listened awhile in the serene silence about 
 them. Philip began again. 
 
 " This cursed somersault of Thiers makes infinitely 
 worse a situation which I thought was as bad as it 
 could be. There is no police now to search for her 
 or to protect her if I found her, and as for me, I can 
 only move with great caution for they are after me. 
 That shot which knocked over my poor cabby told 
 all I need to know. And now," he added with a 
 sigh of fatigue and discouragement, " now I lose 
 your help. Of course there is only one thing possible 
 for you, and that is to report to-morrow at the 
 earliest moment at Versailles." 
 
 " Yes. It appears that is the way I reward your 
 devotion of to-day by deserting you to-morrow," said 
 de Carette, with a flush of mortification. 
 
 " You can t help it," answered Philip, and they 
 shook hands cordially. 
 
 The first morning hour was nearly over when the 
 two young men, after a long and anxious consulta 
 tion, stretched themselves on their camp beds in the 
 deserted salon, where they were soon lying, worn out 
 and pale, in a deep slumber.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DRUMS OF THE 265 TH. 
 
 AT seven o clock of the same morning, Philip 
 sprang upright on his cot. " They are 
 knocking, Alain," he said, but de Carette 
 was already at the door. 
 
 "Who is it?" he demanded. 
 
 " The officer of the guard." 
 
 Alain threw open the door and sitting down 
 began to pull on his riding-boots while the lieu 
 tenant reported " all well." 
 
 " General d Abzac came at six. He refused to 
 believe me when I told him the government had 
 fled " a tall figure in the uniform of a chef d 
 escadron of artillery appeared in the doorway: 
 " Hello, Alain, I just heard that the government 
 has run away. It s not true of course, it s some 
 blague ! " Tardif de Moidrey of the artillery stationed 
 at the Tuileries was in a rage. His deep angry 
 voice boomed like a big bell through the empty 
 rooms. 
 
 " It s true, mon ami," said Alain. 
 
 " What ! " thundered de Moidrey. " Damn their 
 white livers, they have left me and my four batteries 
 in the Tuileries without any orders ! I want my 
 orders ! " 
 
 107
 
 IO8 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Mon Commandant," replied Alain, " nobody is 
 left at the War Ministry but myself and a guard. 
 Go to the Governor of Paris." 
 
 " I have just come from there," cried de Moidrey, 
 " there is n t a soul there. At least there s an officer 
 here." 
 
 " Mon Commandant, what can I do? " 
 
 " Have you got the seals of the Ministry? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then write me an order and I can get out by the 
 Porte Dauphine with my batteries. I call you to 
 witness, Captain de Carette, that Thiers runs away 
 in such haste that he forgets my brave little bat 
 teries ! " De Moidrey walked furiously about the 
 room, shouting, " Monstrous ! Incredible ! " while 
 Alain scribbled the order and affixed the seals of the 
 Ministry. 
 
 Hardly had de Moidrey stalked wrathfully away 
 with his order when others arrived with similar de 
 mands. General Bocher came and said : " My brigade 
 was under arms all night. I would not even let my 
 men lie down. They sat with chassepot in hand on 
 their cots, expecting every moment the order to 
 move on Montmartre." 
 
 Count Arthur de Vogu 6 of the Mobiles began 
 speaking at the same time, but both were now si 
 lenced by a sound from the street, the measured 
 tread of marching men. All crowded to the win 
 dows. 
 
 " Is it the Federals? " cried Bocher, drawing his 
 revolver. 
 
 " No, it s the Line."
 
 THE DRUMS OF THE 265 TH. IOQ 
 
 Farron s division was swinging along toward the 
 Porte Dauphine in perfect silence save for the 
 metallic clink clank of the steel-shod horses and the 
 rhythmic trample of the men. The 35th passed in 
 splendid order, followed by the 42d, several regi 
 ments de marcke and the Gendarmerie. 
 
 " Monsieur Thiers runs away when he has such 
 troops as these at his command," sneered an officer. 
 " II me degoute a la fin, ce petit bonhomme." 
 
 When the last gendarme had ridden out of the 
 rue St. Dominique, the officers turned to each 
 other with gestures of despair. " There is but one 
 thing for us to do," they said ; " join the army now 
 forming at Versailles." 
 
 One by one they shook hands with Alain and left. 
 
 " I 11 take my brigade out without losing a man ! " 
 stormed Bocher, as he tramped down the stairs and 
 slammed the wicket. The huissiers were coming up 
 in a body as the officers descended. They wanted 
 to know if they might go too. 
 
 " The Federals may come at any moment," said 
 one of them, " and the guard below would only be 
 massacred." 
 
 " You are right," said de Carette. " Go ! " Alain 
 and Philip were left standing alone in the deserted 
 War Ministry. 
 
 " One thing more," said Alain, in a low voice ; 
 " that little post below must get out of the city. 
 They d better go now or it will be too late." He 
 wrote the order and sealed it, then locking up the 
 seals he took his cap and sabre and beckoned Philip 
 to follow.
 
 HO THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 When they reached the courtyard the guard of 
 the i loth presented arms. 
 
 " I will inspect your men," said de Carette to the 
 lieutenant in charge, calling the others from the 
 garden. 
 
 With their battered forage caps and faded red 
 trousers, their bright faces and firm bearing, the 
 little detachment stood silent and attentive, while 
 de Carette passed them rapidly in inspection. Then 
 he turned to the lieutenant. " Here is your order; 
 go by the Porte Dauphine. March! " 
 
 The lieutenant hesitated and stammered : 
 
 " But we would like to see you safe first, mon 
 Capitaine ; is it not so, mes enfants ? " The little 
 troop swinging their battered caps woke up the 
 courtyard and hallway with their cheering. 
 
 " Thank you, my children," said Alain, much 
 moved ; " I am safe ; obey orders ! March ! " 
 
 The lieutenant straightened up. " March ! " he 
 repeated, and saluting, passed out into the street 
 with his handful of men. Alain and Philip were 
 left alone. 
 
 " Come up on the terrace of the garden," said 
 de Carette ; " we can talk there and watch the rue 
 de Bourgogne at the same time ; they will come 
 from that direction ; " and he led the way. The 
 sun was shining in a cloudless sky. Birds chirped 
 from every shrub ; it was Sunday, a Sabbath still 
 ness was in the air. Across the river a mellow bell 
 tolled and the soft spring wind bore a murmur of 
 distant chimes to their ears. They sat down on the 
 parapet overlooking the rue de Bourgogne, and 
 Alain produced two rolls and a bottle of milk.
 
 THE DRUMS OF THE 265 TH. Ill 
 
 " Perhaps our last meal together," said Landes, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Who knows. Versailles is not far off," said de 
 Carette. " Not far off," he repeated, sadly ; " and 
 yet I predict that if we have found it easy to leave 
 Paris we shall not find it easy to return. It s a bad 
 business a bad business." Landes nodded. 
 
 " As for leaving you, can you imagine how I hate 
 to do that ? It seems like desertion, you know. If 
 I could stay, Philip, my friend, I would." 
 
 " I know you would," answered Philip ; " why 
 speak of it ? Do you think Thiers means to come 
 back?" 
 
 " He means to, yes, and he will if he can. Oh, of 
 course some time we shall retake the city, but what 
 will happen first ? " 
 
 " The Commune means the Reign of Terror," said 
 Landes. 
 
 " That, and nothing else," said Alain. " What 
 will these fishmonger captains do with their newly 
 acquired power ? What will that criminal Flourens, 
 what will those creatures Assi and Delescluze what 
 will Raoul Rigault 
 
 A voice from the street broke in : 
 
 " Hey ! you officer up there ! " 
 
 " What do you want ? " said de Carette, sharply, 
 looking over the parapet. It was a man in the uni 
 form of a National Guard, swaying backwards and 
 forwards on the sidewalk, very drunk. 
 
 "What d I want? I 11 tell you, young cock-of- 
 the-walk ; I want you to und stand that I am as good 
 as you are, and thash what I want."
 
 112 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 De Carette watched him closely. " There may be 
 more of them," he whispered to Landes ; " get your 
 revolver ready." 
 
 " Wha d I want ? Thash good. I m a goin to 
 tell you, my gold-trimmed canary bird. I m Yssel 
 Jean Marie Joseph Yssel from Lorient, n thash 
 a dam good place ! " 
 
 " Excellent," replied Alain, and cocked his re 
 volver. 
 
 " Dam sight better n Paris ! " 
 
 " Dam sight," replied the urbane Captain. 
 
 " I m Yssel, Jean Marie Joseph Yssel, fourth 
 comp ny 266th battalion, corporal, an know a dam 
 sight more n my Colonel." 
 
 " You are very intelligent," replied Alain. The 
 fellow whipped out a revolver and began firing in all 
 directions, accompanying each shot with unearthly 
 whoops. 
 
 " I m dam sight better n the Colonel, better n 
 you, better n everybody," he yelled, as the racket 
 of his fusilade died away, and he hurled his empty 
 revolver across the street. Then with a vinous smile 
 he sat down on the steps. 
 
 " You re a hell of a Captain ! " he observed to 
 de Carette. 
 
 " Oh, I m not perfect." 
 
 " No, you re an ass ! " 
 
 Alain and Landes had to laugh, and the drunkard 
 promptly joined in. Then he got up and tried the 
 gate. 
 
 " We re three pretty good fellows," he called up, 
 with a wink, " ain t we ? "
 
 THE DRUMS OF THE 26$ TH. 113 
 
 "We are, indeed," replied Landes, fervently, 
 " especially you." 
 
 " Say I like your friend," bawled the soldier to 
 Alain ; " he s a good fellow, ain t he ? Lemme in." 
 
 " Where are your friends ? " asked Alain. 
 
 "Ain t got no fren s," bawled the drunkard, weep 
 ing and snuffling. "Ain t got nothin nor nobody ! 
 Lemme in ! " and he beat upon the gate at the foot 
 of the steps. 
 
 " Where s your battalion ? " 
 
 " Ain t got no battalion." 
 
 " Yes, you have ; where is it ? " 
 
 " In h 1 ! In Belleville." 
 
 " They re synonymous," whispered Alain to Philip. 
 " Are they coming this way ? " 
 
 " Yes, guess so." 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 " Lemme in, Captain," pleaded the corporal, 
 knocking great dents in his rifle barrel against the 
 gate. 
 
 " Not till you tell me when your battalion is 
 coming." 
 
 " It s coming soon at ten o clock n all s well n 
 I m drunk," sang the man. 
 
 "Who s the Colonel?" 
 
 " Colonel s a fool." 
 
 " Yes but what s his name ? " 
 
 " I said fool. Op n the gate. I want to be 
 sociable." 
 
 " I mean his other name," persisted Alain, pa 
 tiently. 
 
 " Wilton, Ecole des Beaux Arts."
 
 114 THE RED REPUBLIC, 
 
 " I know him," whispered Philip, excitedly. " He s 
 an American student, an artist, great chum of Gus- 
 tave Courbet. 
 
 "Ain t you goin to lemme in ? " pleaded the cor 
 poral, with a final bang on the gate which sent his 
 rifle into smithereens. 
 
 " What did you say the Colonel s name was ? " 
 
 " Wilton, a Yankee goddam plom pudding rosbiff 
 I can tell you all the officers of the 265th, too, if I 
 want to. I know more n anybody, an I m only a 
 poor d n corporal." 
 
 " What injustice ! " exclaimed Alain ; " and who 
 are the gentlemen of the 265th ? " 
 
 " Tribert, Colonel." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 "Antoine Tribert an ass." 
 
 Philip and Alain exchanged a slight glance ; then 
 Landes said : " Where is the battalion stationed ? " 
 
 " In the rue des Rosiers ; ain t you goin to 
 lemme in ? " 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In the rue des Rosiers. Colonel s headquarters 
 in the Impasse de la Mort." Philip felt Alain s 
 hand on his arm, but they did not look at one 
 another. 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " Wha d you want to know ? Lemme in that 
 gate. Let s be fraternal." 
 
 " Yes, all right. Does he sleep there?" 
 
 "How in helld I know?" 
 
 " Who are his officers ? " 
 
 " Sarre."
 
 THE DRUMS OF THE 26$ TH. 115 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Andr Sarre, captain, Isidor Weser, lieutenant, 
 aide-de-camp Pagot here, I m not tellin* all I know, 
 an I want to get in an fraternize " 
 
 At that moment the roll of drums filled the rue 
 de Bourgogne, and around the corner crept a dozen 
 soldiers thrown out as skirmishers. They glided 
 along close to the walls, rifles poised, heads bent 
 forward, while louder and louder the drums rolled 
 and nearer and nearer sounded the petulant bugle. 
 
 "The first guard from the Commune," whispered 
 Alain ; " come." 
 
 They crossed the terrace, ascended a few steps, 
 and, taking a path through the shrubbery, entered a 
 narrow alley which led into a courtyard. There they 
 paused. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Alain, as they grasped each 
 other s hands. " This gate leads into the rue 
 d Athis, from there I can reach the St. Lazare 
 station and be in Versailles in about an hour. My 
 address will be Vinoy s staff. I have yours in the 
 rue Notre Dame. Remember you promised to keep 
 me informed if possible. Good-bye once more, 
 Philip, my friend." 
 
 And saying " Courage " to each other they parted, 
 Alain passing through the gate into the rue d Athis 
 and Philip taking an alley which led to the Pont 
 Neuf. 
 
 So they separated, with the sound of the Com 
 mune s drums in their ears and black foreboding in 
 their hearts.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 
 
 THE clock in the Luxembourg palace struck 
 two as Landes turned from the rue de Seine 
 into the rue St. Sulpice. To reach the rue 
 Notre Dame he made for the Place St. Sulpice, 
 intending to cut across diagonally to the rue d Assas, 
 but his progress was barred at the entrance of 
 the Place by sentinels of the National Guard who 
 warned him back with the sharp cry, " au large ! au 
 large! " 
 
 Along the line of sentinels a curious crowd had 
 gathered. What they were watching Landes could 
 not see, until he crossed the street. Here a jumble 
 of cabs, trucks, and omnibuses were stuck fast, for 
 bidden to proceed, unable to turn back. When he 
 stepped upon the sidewalk and turned to get a full 
 view of the square the matter was explained. Hun 
 dreds of soldiers of the National Guard were work 
 ing like beavers along the four sides of the Place, 
 and already a formidable barricade of paving stones 
 had been erected. The Federals, rifles, coats, and 
 cartridge-belts thrown aside, were attacking the 
 granite blocks of the pavement with pick and crow. 
 A bow-legged officer, with red reverses to his 
 tunic and yards of gold lace on sleeve and kepi, 
 
 116
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 1 1/ 
 
 straddled up and down the sidewalk where the men 
 were working and where the shop windows reflected 
 his own charms. He talked in a loud nasal voice 
 and divided his attention between his reflection in 
 the windows and a group of pretty shop-girls who 
 were giggling on the curb. 
 
 " Won Uieu ! qu il est beau ! " tittered a saucy 
 brunette, " such graceful legs! " 
 
 " His legs are Renaissance architecture ladies, 
 Francois Premier ! " said a student with a T-square 
 under one arm and a drawing-board under the 
 other. 
 
 The girls giggled until everybody in the vicinity 
 laughed too. 
 
 "Not Renaissance, Moorish!" put in another 
 student. " Look at him now as he stands the rear 
 view a perfect Moorish arch ! Those legs, ladies ! 
 admire this fragment from the Alhambra, imported 
 by the government at enormous expense for the in 
 struction of the Paris public and 
 
 A soldier tried to seize him, but he dodged and 
 mounted an omnibus, from the top of which Landes, 
 hurrying away, heard him still explaining in a loud 
 voice the priceless value of this human gem of 
 Moorish architecture, amid shrieks of laughter from 
 the bystanders. 
 
 "How can they laugh? How can they?" Philip 
 thought, hastening, on toward the Luxembourg. 
 " Nobody but a Parisian would make a jest of these 
 sinister preparations." 
 
 He reached the rue de Vaugirard and started to 
 cross the Luxembourg gardens, but again sentinels
 
 Il8 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 barred his way, and again the ominous cry, " au 
 large ! au large ! " made him halt. A hasty glance 
 across the dead lirie showed that the gardens were 
 alive with Federal troops, mostly infantry of the 
 National Guard. 
 
 Forced to make the long detour by the rue 
 d Assas, he hastened on, passing more Federals in 
 the rue de Luxembourg, and a partly built barri 
 cade at the junction of the rue de Fleurus ; and at 
 last he passed through the rue Vavin and the rue 
 Notre Dame to his own studio. 
 
 Joseph, his concierge, open critic and secret ad 
 mirer, stood at the gate of the long ivy-covered 
 alley which led to the studio. The sight of him did 
 Philip good. 
 
 After the horrors of the Place Pigalle, the slaugh 
 ter in the rue des Rosiers, after what seemed years 
 of absence in a land of nightmares, this home-com 
 ing moved him deeply. He could have embraced 
 Joseph in his blue blouse but he merely said : 
 
 " Well, Joseph, here I am and glad to be here. It 
 seems as if I had been away a long time." 
 
 "Three days, Monsieur Landes," replied Joseph, 
 in sepulchral tones. There was accusation in his 
 eyes and a pained expression about his mouth. 
 
 " Is all well ? " inquired Philip, perfectly aware of 
 what was coming. 
 
 Joseph raised an appealing hand to Heaven, then 
 with eyes turned in the same direction he wailed 
 aloud : 
 
 " Is all well ? Monsieur asks me if all is well ! 
 Three days and nights has Monsieur absented him-
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 119 
 
 self, with Monsieur s gay friends, never leaving me, 
 his concierge true and faithful, any sign or word. It 
 is the same to Monsieur that I pass my nights in 
 anxious watching, that I run hither and thither, fear 
 ing lest harm has befallen Monsieur ; it is the same to 
 him, that I, alarmed for his safety, fly to the morgue 
 and to the police with cries of fright, and my toe 
 too lame to wear a sabot ! and my gout which 
 protests ! " 
 
 " I m sorry, Joseph, but I could not help it. This 
 was no escapade." 
 
 Joseph fixed his gaze on his mop which was lying 
 near the gutter, and still refusing to notice Philip, 
 addressed it in impassioned strains, gesticulating 
 wildly : 
 
 " Monsieur has no regard for his Joseph, faithful and 
 diligent. Monsieur deigns to send no word which 
 might calm and comfort. No ! Monsieur sends 
 only a basket of dogs and cats howling cats, which 
 sit and make enormous eyes at one." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Philip, " did the trooper bring the 
 cat and the puppy ? " 
 
 Then at last Joseph addressed him directly. 
 
 " Monsieur Philip, the puppy is biting holes in 
 everything within the studio, and the cat claws the 
 bark from the almond tree and ruins the rose bushes. 
 Yet for Monsieur s sake I have been kind to the 
 animals." 
 
 " Of course you have, Joseph. You re a jewel." 
 
 He had passed down the ivy-covered alley, Joseph 
 at his heels, crossed the little garden, and now he 
 stood in the doorway of the rear building where the
 
 I2O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 studio was. An irregular quadrangle of house and 
 garden walls enclosed the peaceful little court, roofs 
 and gables of different heights rose around it against 
 a fair spring sky. A mossy fountain was in the mid 
 dle, bordered by almond trees and rose bushes. 
 Philip looked kindly at the concierge, and repeated : 
 
 " You are a jewel, Joseph." The faithful one con 
 cealed his pleasure and rubbed his nose pensively. 
 
 " Did Monsieur receive his clothes ? " 
 
 " Yes, thank you. Now, get my bath ready and 
 I want something to eat anything I m going out 
 again presently." 
 
 " To stay three days more ? " 
 
 " No no. Has Monsieur Ellice been here ? " 
 
 " Five times, in anguish ! " 
 
 " Anyone else ? " 
 
 " A lady Mademoiselle Faustine Courtois this 
 morning. She will return again to-day : she said so." 
 
 " Is that all ? " 
 
 " A soldier came from the Luxembourg two days 
 ago. He requested Monsieur to go at once to the 
 Palace " 
 
 " A soldier ? " 
 
 " A dragoon. He said to tell Monsieur there was 
 bad news from the Place Pigalle. I did n t know 
 what he meant," added Joseph, tentatively, but 
 Philip only answered : 
 
 " Ah well ! My bath now, and something to 
 eat as soon as you can get it." He turned into the 
 hallway and fitted a key into the first door on the 
 left. 
 
 When he entered his studio the setter puppy left
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MOR7 . 121 
 
 the hole in the panther skin which he had been 
 patiently enlarging, and looked up with both ears 
 cocked forward. Philip called him gently, and the 
 little creature dashed enthusiastically into his arms. 
 The cat also remembered him, and rising from the 
 cushioned divan, opened her great emerald eyes, 
 stretched, yawned, and began to purr. Lifting her, 
 Philip sat down on the divan and gathered them 
 both into his lap. Then in the pleasant stillness of 
 the familiar and sheltered room, homeless Jeanne 
 de Brassac came and took entire possession of his 
 thoughts, and his brain went on working at the 
 problem of her rescue, as it had not ceased to do 
 since he stumbled into the apartment of the Hotel 
 Perret. In all the grim horrors of the rue des Ro- 
 siers, in the turmoil of the Place Pigalle, and the 
 sinister silence of the deserted War Ministry, his 
 thoughts for her had scarcely suffered interruption. 
 Amid the infernal clamor of the Chateau Rouge 
 the sickening confusion, violence, and cruelty the 
 horror and dread of death, her face was always be 
 fore him, and his distressed heartbeats spelled out 
 her name. And now he sat with her pets in his 
 arms and pondered the almost hopeless problem of 
 her rescue. 
 
 The police had been driven from the city, the gar 
 rison at the Luxembourg had fled to Versailles, no 
 body was left to whom he could go for aid or even 
 for advice. And he himself, a marked man, could 
 easily involve her in worse danger still by a wrong 
 move. Moreover, the thought of lying under a dead 
 wall, with a handkerchief over his eyes, and twelve
 
 122 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 bullets of the 265th battalion in his body, had small 
 charms for him. 
 
 Well, it appeared that he must find Jeanne de 
 Brassac alone, if at all. He could not think of a 
 soul in all Paris to help him. Yes, there was one 
 Faustine Courtois, she might be useful, through her 
 relations with Tribert. But how? that was far from 
 clear. The only thing certain was that he could 
 trust her. It never entered his mind to doubt Faus 
 tine, and she had been seeking him already to-day. 
 And she was coming back before evening, he would 
 wait till she came. 
 
 Joseph entered and said the bath was ready, and 
 luncheon would be served in half an hour, so with 
 out more delay Landes tumbled his four-footed 
 wards in a heap together on the divan and went into 
 his bedroom. 
 
 When he came out again into the studio, fresh 
 and hungry, a small table was laid and Joseph was 
 already placing the omelet upon it. The Bordeaux 
 was good, the linen was white, the pretty china and 
 silver were bright. The cat and puppy invited them 
 selves at once, and Philip did the honors with a bowl 
 of milk. He finished soon. Joseph set his coffee 
 beside the divan, he lighted a cigarette, and threw, 
 himself down there to wait for Faustine. 
 
 A glass extension was built out from the studio 
 into the garden. The afternoon sun shone down the 
 alley across the court, and a broad patch of sunlight 
 fell through the glass on the floor of the studio. 
 The cat sat blinking in the middle of it, occasion 
 ally twisting to polish her back with her pink tongue.
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 12$ 
 
 The puppy returned to the hole in the panther skin, 
 but after a few mouthfuls settled down quietly and 
 thought, planning other and more important holes 
 in more valuable property of the studio for future 
 industry. 
 
 From where Landes was lying he could see the 
 garden. He had noticed as he came in that the 
 almond tree and lilac bushes were covered with buds, 
 and had marked the tender amber-colored shoots 
 from the thorn-covered branches of the roses. As 
 he rested now idly among the cushions, the sunshine 
 was warm and soothing, and a breeze blew through 
 an open window in soft aromatic puffs. A shadow 
 fell across the glass roof ; there was a flirt and a 
 flash of sun-tipped wings, and then a burst of liquid 
 melody from the almond tree by the fountain. 
 Landes sat up and listened ; the cat also raised her 
 head and her splendid eyes sparkled. 
 
 " The first blackbird," said Landes, rising and 
 going to the open door. There sat the vocalist 
 ruffling his velvety black plumage, preening an un 
 satisfactory feather here and there with his bright 
 yellow bill. The cat followed Landes and promptly 
 began to stalk the bird, but Philip put a stop to that 
 and sat down on the doorstep in the full glow of the 
 sun pouring down the ivy-covered alley. The gravel 
 walks and moist flower-beds smelled of spring, the 
 little circular stone basin of the fountain reflected a 
 faint green of awakening water vegetation, and two 
 cynical goldfish, who lived among the rocks at the 
 bottom, came out and floated near the surface, wav 
 ing their fins.
 
 124 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Philip felt in his pocket and drew out the crumpled 
 paper which he had surprised Georgias writing in the 
 Place Pigalle. For the hundredth time he read the 
 few lines : 
 
 " Mon Cher Raoul : If you think that the Im 
 passe is safe enough Tribert can hold the bird there 
 
 until " here the letter had been interrupted by 
 
 his own sudden entrance. Until the drunken cor 
 poral came under the terrace of the War Ministry 
 the word " Impasse " might have meant any of the 
 countless alleys which lay hidden in older Paris, but 
 now he knew it meant the " Impasse de la Mort," 
 Tribert s headquarters, a narrow unpaved cul-de-sac 
 which branched at right angles from the Faubourg 
 du Temple just above the Canal St. Martin. Possi 
 bly one Parisian in a thousand had ever heard of it. 
 Landes knew it, because his little model, Sara Lalo, 
 lived there. One day, when her drunken father had 
 nearly killed her, Philip had gone thither to give him 
 a bit of advice. 
 
 The rest of the letter was simple as far as it went ; 
 the " bird " meant Jeanne de Brassac of course. As 
 he looked down at the letter and thought of the child 
 in that vile den, in the power of those criminals, an 
 impulse to rush off and tear her out of their hands 
 shook him. But of course that passed, and left him 
 feeling more helpless than before. Could the model 
 be of use ? How could he get word to her ? Days 
 might be wasted in that attempt, and then, how did 
 he know that he could trust her ? Thrown back 
 once more upon Faustine Courtois, he began to 
 watch impatiently for her coming. The afternoon
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 12$ 
 
 vvas passing, the lights growing longer and longer, 
 she must come soon. And sure enough in a few 
 moments the gate opened without any ring, trust 
 Joseph for being on the watch, steps came down the 
 alley, and Faustine entered the garden. 
 
 With a gesture of welcome, Landes rose and mo 
 tioned her into the studio, following, and closing the 
 door. 
 
 The girl stood before him quiet and pale. He 
 noted the strained expression of her eyes, the worn, 
 almost sunken look of her cheeks and temples. 
 They seemed to him so many signs of her partici 
 pation in the violence of the past three days. He 
 eyed the knot of red ribbon on her breast, and could 
 not restrain his anger. 
 
 " Well," he said curtly. 
 
 " Well, Monsieur Philip so you are safe." 
 
 " Never mind me," he answered harshly. " I want 
 to know what you are wearing that thing for. Are 
 you proud of your murders, and your anarchy ? 
 Were you content with the cowardly foot-pad as 
 sassination of the old Count de Brassac ? God ! If 
 I had known you were such a girl as that ! " 
 
 " You are very hard," she answered, with white 
 lips. " We have been such good friends." 
 
 " We never would have been if I had not thought 
 you a kind, harmless girl." 
 
 " Kind ! Harmless ! " she flashed out. " You be 
 gin to tire me, Monsieur. Who sings of kindness in 
 these days?" 
 
 " Not you and your friends, it appears. The 
 chorus of the Commune is Murder and Ruin Ruin
 
 126 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 and Murder. I hope you like it. It s a nice song 
 for a woman ! " 
 
 "You shall not charge crimes on the Commune 
 for which it is not to blame! " 
 
 " Who is to blame then ? " She was silent. " Do 
 you mean to tell me the Commune did not authorize 
 the crimes on Montmartre?" 
 
 " The barricades, the struggle for liberty, yes." 
 
 " The attack on the troops ! Why did the mob 
 attack the troops? " he demanded. 
 
 " Why did Thiers try to steal our cannon ? " 
 
 " Why did the Commune slaughter the prisoners 
 in the rue des Rosiers?" 
 
 " It did not ! The Commune did not ! " she cried 
 passionately. " It wanted to prevent those murders. 
 It has been betrayed by criminals who use its name 
 to cloak their crimes! " 
 
 " And the Central Committee, for what is that a 
 cloak? Where was it at the Chateau Rouge, in the 
 rue des Rosiers? What is it? A shade? A pre 
 tence? A cloak, as you say, but for the Com 
 mune s crimes! " 
 
 "Ah! mon ami, you are wrong. The Central 
 Committee is composed of patriots. It has decreed 
 the city elections. They will take place peacefully. 
 Then the Committee will retire, and leave Paris to 
 be governed by the men of her own choosing 
 
 " In the meanwhile throwing up a few barri 
 cades." 
 
 " Certainly ; and arming the forts and enceintes," 
 she said, coolly ignoring his sarcasm. 
 
 Landes watched her, dismayed. This child ! It
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. I2/ 
 
 seemed impossible that she could understand the 
 horror of what she defended, the true meaning of 
 her own prattle about forts and barricades. 
 
 " Faustine, do you mean to tell me that the Com 
 mune did not countenance the murders on Mont- 
 martre? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But the Central Committee was there if it was 
 anywhere. Word was continually coming that it 
 would sit here convene there, and we were dragged 
 about to find it." 
 
 "You?" she interrupted, turning still whiter. 
 He put her question aside with an impatient 
 gesture. 
 
 "What then is the Central Committee? Is it an 
 empty name for something else to hide behind?" 
 
 " No ! " she cried indignantly. 
 
 " Then" he broke out, angry at her evasion, " it is 
 the Commune ! " 
 
 " If you like," she answered sullenly. He saw his 
 mistake. It was the first time Faustine had ever 
 spoken to him in that tone. All his hopes depended 
 on the girl, and here he was on the verge of a quarrel 
 with her. He took her hand, and said gently : 
 
 "My poor Faustine! Do you like to see your 
 city running stark mad ? Does one love liberty, and 
 close the streets with bayonets? Does one inaugu 
 rate a Republic with murder and theft ? That 
 blood-colored thing you wear on your jacket, is it 
 the symbol of the Commune ? Then it is the sym 
 bol of ignorance, brutality, and cruelty. And you 
 wear it ! "
 
 128 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Yes I wear it." There was a pause and she 
 added through her set teeth, " while there are rebels 
 and traitors at Versailles." 
 
 " Do you mean the legal government?" 
 
 " That is what they call themselves. Savage 
 royalists and imperialists ! They want to bring 
 France under the yoke again. Do you think they 
 can return? We will blow up the city first ! " Her 
 eyes flamed feverishly, her cheeks were crimson. 
 
 Deep pity replaced every other feeling as Landes 
 watched this slender child, his playmate yesterday ^ 
 shaken by passions too fierce for her strength. He 
 drew her to a seat on the divan beside him. 
 
 " Listen, Faustine. We are, as you say, old 
 friends and comrades. Until this cursed outbreak 
 nothing ever threatened our good understanding. 
 Is it so long since we shared the miseries of the siege 
 together ? I know you you are upright and truth 
 ful by nature. You used to be incapable of a base 
 action. Are you changed ? I do not believe it, in 
 spite of all you say." 
 
 Her face had been softening while he spoke, and 
 now tears filled her eyes. 
 
 " I want you to see where you are going, whose 
 lead you are following. Loyal to your friends, how 
 can you be unfaithful to your country ? " 
 
 " I would die very gladly for my country," she 
 said, without affectation. 
 
 "I believe it, and yet living you give your aid to 
 those who will disgrace and ruin her." She re 
 mained silent, looking down, the tears dropping into 
 her lap. " Tribert, Sarre, Georgias, you approve of 
 them and their crimes? " She began to tremble.
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 129 
 
 " Oh ! They are vile ! Monsieur Philip ! I do 
 not approve of them! " 
 
 "Yet they are officers in one of the Commune s 
 battalions." 
 
 " They will be denounced all the same, when the 
 time comes ! " 
 
 " And until it comes they may rob and murder 
 with impunity. Is that your idea of a good govern 
 ment, Faustine ? " He spoke almost tenderly, as to a 
 child. She thrilled at the change in his voice and 
 manner, looked up quickly, met only the firm kind 
 ness of his eyes, and broke into hopeless weeping. 
 
 " It must be so," she . ~>bbed. 
 
 Landes, seeing her softened, took one of her 
 hands in his, and began the story of the last three 
 days. He did not spare her a single harrowing de 
 tail, and when he had finished she looked like death. 
 The moment had come to enlist her aid, and he 
 made his request. His account had included the 
 murder of Count de Brassac, the events in the Place 
 Pigalle, Georgias* letter, and the revelations of the 
 drunken corporal. She was the kind of girl to un 
 derstand that he was bound to find Jeanne de Bras- 
 sac, and he made his appeal quite simply. 
 
 " Help me to carry out my plan, Faustine. I 
 don t know which way to turn. You see I m a 
 marked man myself." 
 
 Faustine s eyes were dry. She drew her hand 
 away from Philip s friendly clasp, and sat up, look 
 ing him steadily in the face. 
 
 " I will help you to find Mademoiselle de Brassac, 
 if I can. What shall I do ? "
 
 130 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 "Get me a uniform of the 265th and a pass, or 
 the countersign." 
 
 " I will get you the countersign, and two uni 
 forms you must not go alone. Take Monsieur 
 Ellice with you." 
 
 " The very thing ! Jack would go ! Will you do 
 that ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 " Now." 
 
 "You dear girl!" he cried, and slipped his arm 
 about her waist. She jumped up, crimson with anger. 
 
 " How dare you ! " She threw herself into a chair, 
 sobbing bitterly again, her back turned to him, her 
 head on her slender wrist. 
 
 " I meant nothing," protested Philip. 
 
 " I know it. Nothing ! Yet you think I should 
 endure your caresses because I was a girl of the 
 Quartier Latin." 
 
 " Upon my honor I never thought anything of 
 the kind," he cried. " I only thought you were the 
 most generous girl in the world and the truest 
 comrade. I never asked a kindness of you yet that 
 you did not grant it, no matter at what inconven 
 ience to yourself. There is no one alive that I would 
 treat with more sincere respect than you, Faustine." 
 
 " A la bonheur ! " she laughed nervously, jumping 
 up with another of her rapid changes. " Say no 
 more about it. I shall go now and get you your 
 two uniforms. Look for them within an hour. I 
 shall find some means of getting them into Joseph s 
 hands unobserved." She was moving away with a
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 131 
 
 cool business-like air, but when she reached the door" 
 she turned back and met Philip, who was hurrying 
 to open it for her. 
 
 " Dieu vous garde," she said, looking up into his 
 face, " and do not forget that sinful souls are puri 
 fied by love." 
 
 " You are better than I," he stammered, much 
 distressed. 
 
 " Am I ? she said bitterly, with another swift 
 change. " But Mademoiselle de Brassac is good ! " 
 All that was visible of her cheek which had grown 
 very thin, of her slender neck, burned crimson as 
 she hurried through the open door and out across 
 the garden. At the entrance to the alley Philip 
 heard her exchange a few hasty words with some 
 one- and the next moment Jack Ellice rushed into 
 the studio. 
 
 " By Jove ! There you are ! Faustine says you Ve 
 been on Montmartre. She says you want me." 
 
 " Yes, I want your help. But first I want the 
 news sit down and tell me the situation." 
 
 " The news is infernally bad and the situation is 
 damned disagreeable." 
 
 " Yes. I know that much. I want particulars 
 afterward I 11 tell you the same story from my side." 
 
 " Well, first of all, your friend of the Cafe Cardinal, 
 Raoul Rigault, is Prefet of Police and Procureur 
 General to the Commune." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " 
 
 " That s what I said when I read their infernal 
 order stuck up on a bulletin at the Mayor s office in 
 the rue Bonaparte."
 
 I3 2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Order of the Central Committee ? " 
 
 " Of the Central Committee. That s awkward 
 for you, Philip." 
 
 " You 11 say so when you hear what I have to tell 
 you. But that young Latin-Quarter student he s 
 younger than you are." 
 
 " No. He s twenty-eight." 
 
 " Well, he s a failure in everything in law in 
 medicine and he s just failed again at the Poly- 
 technique. A nobody, without talent. How did he 
 get the appointment? " 
 
 " I suppose by being the biggest blackguard of 
 the lot. Anyway there he is, and a full-fledged 
 demagogue already. Takes Marat openly for his 
 model." 
 
 " Does he dare, so soon ? " 
 
 "I should think so. The whole Commune is mad 
 over the First Revolution. Their orators praise 
 Robespierre. You are not in 1871, you are in the 
 year 79 of liberty, and next month will not be April, 
 but Germinal. They have seized the Official, and 
 are running it to suit themselves. All the papers 
 suppressed by Thiers have been revived. All the 
 others have been shut up tight. And this is what 
 looks blackest of all," said Ellice, dropping his 
 voice " to-day posters are on every wall in Paris 
 decreeing the appointment of the Committee of 
 Public Safety, and reviving the Law of Suspects." 
 
 " The Reign of Terror ! " 
 
 " That s what we re headed for unless something 
 stops us. But it can t go on, you know. The people 
 must get scared by this last performance. Well, and
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 133 
 
 now about yourself. What do you want of me? 
 How did you get up on Montmartre, and how did 
 you get down ? " added Jack, with a laugh that tried 
 to be like his old laughs. Then Landes began from 
 their parting in front of the Cafe Ferdinand, and 
 told the story of the past three days. 
 
 As an adviser Jack Ellice had not many original 
 ideas, but as a confidant he was perfect. He listened 
 with increasing excitement, and jumped eagerly at 
 the expedition to the Impasse de la Mort. 
 
 "As for plans," ended Philip, "how can I make 
 any ? I Ve been over the whole ground by myself 
 twenty times. Last night I went over it with de 
 Carette, carefully. He has the clear head of a 
 Frenchman. Nothing escapes him, and his conclu 
 sion was the same as my own. There is not a peg 
 to hang a hope of assistance upon there is nothing 
 to indicate one line of action more than another. 
 All must be left to chance. And the chances are 
 against us. Every new development makes the con 
 fusion greater. It seemed bad enough when we 
 thought we had the government and the police be 
 hind us. It seemed worse when we found that the 
 bottom had dropped out of the government. And 
 now you tell me the Committee of Public Safety is 
 the government, and Raoul Rigault is the police J 
 I am Jeanne de Brassac s only protector at this 
 crisis and I am a marked man to the criminals who 
 have her in their power. And the same criminals 
 are in the chief places of the city government. If I 
 find her and am so fortunate as to get her out of 
 Tribert s clutches, where shall I take her? She
 
 134 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 ought to be on the road to Chartres within an hour. 
 Failing that, she must hide, till she can get away. 
 Hide where? I don t know a soul I dare ask to re 
 ceive her. From something her father said I fancy 
 they have n t many friends in Paris, and those they 
 had will be scattered, no doubt fled after the gov 
 ernment and the army to Versailles." 
 
 " Perhaps she will know some one, though," said 
 Jack. " Any woman, faithful and respectable and 
 within reach, would be a god-send, wait would n t 
 Joseph s wife do at a pinch." 
 
 " Joseph sent his family into the country to-day." 
 
 "The devil!" 
 
 " Well, there it is suppose we do find Jeanne de 
 Brassac to-night, for instance, in the Impasse de la 
 Mort. Suppose we do effect her escape. We shall 
 have to run for it, probably. Suppose we fail to 
 reach the station, it s coming from away over the 
 other side of the river to the Gare Montparnasse." 
 
 " It is n t guarded," said Ellice. 
 
 " Anything may happen to head us off suppose 
 we fail then to reach the station?" 
 
 " We must n t fail to reach the station, that s all." 
 
 They sat and thought awhile. Then Jack said : 
 
 " I think it behooves you, on your own account, 
 to communicate with the American Minister as soon 
 as possible you can t tell what nasty trick those 
 fellows may play you." 
 
 " Yes, with the house-to-house search going on, 
 and the guillotine working gaily in every square, 
 and Raoul Rigault yearning to see my head in a 
 basket of sawdust "
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 135 
 
 " Oh, come ! What s the sense of being ghastly ! " 
 
 I feel ghastly. Your news has made me creep. 
 I feel queer and strange as I used when I was a boy 
 and saw a picture of an Incroyable. There was al 
 ways, for me, something so grotesque and bizarre, 
 so hideously fascinating in the Directoire costume; 
 it made me think of bloody heads on pikes." 
 
 Jack burst out laughing. 
 
 "By Jove! you are rattled! Wake up! What 
 do you see? Is that a photograph of General Grant 
 on the piano ? Is this a copy of the New York 
 Herald with advertisements of A. T. Stewart & Co. ? 
 Is n t there almost a century between us and the 
 Reign of Terror?" 
 
 There came a low knocking at the door. 
 
 " Listen," whispered Landes, " what does that 
 mean? There s a bell outside. No one ever knocks." 
 
 They waited, silent. The knocking came again, 
 low and persistent. 
 
 " I can t understand," murmured Landes in Jack s 
 ear, " how Joseph could let in any one whom he 
 did n t know." 
 
 For the third time the knocking began, low, dis 
 tinct, imperative. 
 
 Landes walked to the door and flung it open. A 
 little sallow man, all in black save for a crimson sash 
 across his breast, stepped noiselessly into the room, 
 without removing his hat. Two soldiers of the Na 
 tional Guard started to follow him in, but he mo 
 tioned them out again, and closed the door softly 
 behind him. Then in a colorless, husky voice he 
 demanded to see the proprietor of the apartment.
 
 136 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " I am the locataire," said Landes, with a dull, 
 oppressive weight in his heart. " What do you want, 
 and who are you ? " 
 
 " I am citizen Verlet, charged by the Chief of 
 Police to arrest one Henri Marsy, suspect of the 
 Commune. What is your name?" 
 
 " Philip Landes, artist." 
 
 " And this gentleman ? " looking at Ellice. 
 
 " John D. Ellice, artist." 
 
 " Who is your neighbor in the studio opposite ? " 
 
 " Moreau Gauthier, sculptor," said Landes. " Mr. 
 Ellice does not live here. Kindly address yourself 
 to me." 
 
 " I will address myself to whom I choose," replied 
 the little man in passionless tones. " Who lives in 
 the next studio beyond ? " 
 
 " I don t know," said Landes, lying deliberately 
 for he did know that Henri Marsy lived there. So 
 did Jack, and immediately had an inspiration. 
 
 " Well, good-bye, Philip," he said, shaking hands 
 with Landes, and giving him a knowing squeeze. 
 " I 11 see you to-morrow then." He started for 
 the door. The little man locked it and put the key 
 in his pocket. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ! " cried Landes, 
 angrily. 
 
 " This gentleman must not leave for the present. 
 I am going to search your apartment." 
 
 " No, you are not," broke in Philip. 
 
 " In the name of the Commune " 
 
 " I don t care a damn in whose name ! " cried 
 Landes, trembling with wrath. " Get out of my
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 137 
 
 place ! " He started toward the sallow man, but 
 the delegate from the Commune was too quick for 
 him. Unlocking the door, he beckoned the soldiers. 
 
 " Search is refused," he said impassively ; " fire, if 
 further resistance is offered." 
 
 " Try it, you crop-eared ragamuffins ! " shouted 
 Landes, white with fury. Snatching an American 
 flag from the wall he flung it over the chandelier. 
 
 " Do you see that flag ? Do you see me standing 
 under it? That is my flag. This is United States 
 ground. Outrage it or me if you dare ! " 
 
 The delegate from the Commune turned a shade 
 more sallow, and stared at the flag. 
 
 " The American Minister shall know about this 
 to-morrow," said Ellice, gravely. " I must request 
 your name again what was it Varlet ? Oh, Ver- 
 let." 
 
 Citizen Verlet grew pale, and stepped back. He 
 knew nothing about alien rights, and he meant to 
 conceal his ignorance if he could. The soldiers eyed 
 the flag stupidly, and fingered their rifles. After a 
 moment Verlet took off his hat, and bowed to Landes. 
 
 " It is a mistake ; formal search will not be neces 
 sary. No insult to your country was intended, and 
 I hope the incident may be dropped." 
 
 Ellice saw his chance, and stalked furiously out of 
 the open door, demanding a cab to take him to the 
 United States Ministry. 
 
 " I hope your friend will not insist upon the un 
 fortunate features of this mistake. I hope he will 
 not go to his Excellency, the United States Minis- 
 ter," the delegate said, very humbly.
 
 138 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Philip began a long-winded discourse upon the in 
 violability of American citizens, international treaties, 
 and alien rights, about which he knew no more than 
 the man before him but he kept him terrified, if 
 not edified, nervously adjusting his red sash, the 
 soldiers yawning in sympathy, until he heard Jack s 
 step in the garden, and knew that Marsy had escaped. 
 Ellice entered in a tearing rage cursing the whole 
 cab service of Paris, and vowing he would walk to the 
 Ministry. Landes presented the delegate s apolo 
 gies to him, and, after some difficulty, they were 
 accepted, and it ended by the delegate and the two 
 Americans exchanging profound salutations, and 
 many compliments, until the former backed out, still 
 bowing, and Landes closed the door behind him. 
 Jack plunged head-foremost into the cushions of the 
 divan and stopped his mouth with them his heels 
 kicking high and convulsively. Landes stood silent 
 and troubled until he heard the door of Marsy s 
 studio slam, and the soldiers retreating footsteps 
 across the gravel. Jack uncovered his head and 
 looked out from the cushions. 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! you and your United States ground ! " 
 
 Landes relaxed into a grin. " You and your Ameri 
 can Minister! " he retorted. 
 
 " But I knew better and you did n t. Oh, by 
 Jove ! This is my flag ! says he." 
 
 " Well, it worked, did n t it?" 
 
 " And Marsy s at the Gare Montparnasse by this 
 time. And the sallow cad in the sash did n t know 
 his government has the right of search in its own 
 country everywhere except at the Foreign Ministries 
 and Embassies what a bluff ! "
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 139 
 
 Joseph entered with a large parcel. Terror was 
 written on every feature. He glanced in a grieved 
 manner at the laughing faces and began to lament. 
 The flight of Marsy would cause the house to be 
 suspected, and they gathered from his somewhat 
 incoherent remarks that, as father of a family, he 
 objected to a sudden and violent death. Landes 
 comforted him. 
 
 " You are all right, my friend. That delegate will 
 not want to talk about this visit in a hurry. At first 
 he will be afraid to tell how near he came to plun 
 ging two great nations into war and when he knows 
 what a fool he made of himself he won t want to 
 tell that. Joseph, are you for the Commune ? " 
 
 " Monsieur Landes," said Joseph, with a hurt ex 
 pression, " I trust I am in my senses." 
 
 " Then you would n t betray me ? " 
 
 Poor Joseph replied with a howl, more convincing 
 than words. Philip, laughing, assured him he had 
 only been joking, and dismissed him. Then they 
 opened the parcel. Ellice looked at his watch it 
 was nearly six. 
 
 " Let s get into these things," he said. 
 
 The uniforms and kepis fitted them as well as they 
 usually fitted the men who wore them. They sur 
 veyed each other critically, cocked their caps at 
 each other, brushed their epaulettes, and buckled 
 their side-arms tightly. Landes went into his bed 
 room and shaved off his moustache. When he came 
 out and found that Jack did not notice the change 
 he bitterly lamented the sacrifice. 
 
 It was after six Joseph served them a little 
 supper and while they were eating it they took
 
 140 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 him into their confidence. When he fully under 
 stood the situation his admiration knew no bounds. 
 He addressed Philip in terms of adoration, and then 
 began that habit, which he kept up for months, of 
 moving about Landes on tiptoe. Unable to stop 
 it Landes had to bear it. Joseph would neither be 
 silenced nor driven away. 
 
 " Tenez ! Monsieur Philip, you have a noble 
 heart - " 
 
 " For heaven s sake, Joseph, go and drink yourself 
 to death with this five-franc piece," entreated 
 Landes, but neither bribes nor threats had any 
 effect. 
 
 " Charlemagne and Roland are not in it with you, 
 old chap," said Ellice, grinning at him under hia> 
 
 " Don Quixote is," said Philip, a little irritated, 
 " Are you ready ? " 
 
 " Yes, your worship, but I fear this will be a worse 
 business than windmills." 
 
 Landes looked at Jack s laughing face with com 
 punction. 
 
 " Look here," he said, " I have no right to bring 
 you into this. It is n t your affair. You are risking 
 your neck for me." 
 
 " No, for fun. And besides, you are risking yours 
 for Mademoiselle de Brassac ; what s the difference? 
 Moreover, it is my affair, any decent man s affair, 
 you know." 
 
 Philip, divided between his urgent need of help 
 and a sudden sense of responsibility for Jack s neck, 
 turned toward the door.
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 141 
 
 Joseph had called a cab ; they entered it and told 
 the driver to go to the Cafe Blanc-bee in the Fau 
 bourg du Temple. They had planned to dismiss 
 the cab there and stroll leisurely up the street to the 
 Impasse de la Mort. 
 
 The Boulevard St. Michel, the bridges, the quays, 
 were alive with National Guards, strolling in groups 
 or singly. Their uniforms fitted them rather worse, 
 on the whole, than Jack s and Philip s did their 
 wearers. " That s all right," said Ellice, " but I 
 hope I sha n t have to talk." 
 
 " Yes, your er accent but there are all sorts of 
 foreign adventurers in the Federal ranks. They 11 
 take you for one." 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " Yes, otherwise when you say donny moy ung 
 verre do 
 
 " I can say it better than that," said Ellice, placidly. 
 
 Landes diverted the conversation. " What has 
 become of Ynes Falaise, Jack?" 
 
 " Did n t I tell you ? She has fallen in love with 
 Archie Wilton." 
 
 " Why, that s the commander of the 266th." 
 
 " Yes. Ynes never cared for him until he began to 
 swagger for the Commune. Like all French girls of 
 her class she s a rank rebel and now she adores 
 Archie. Pity, Wilton was a decent little chap 
 when he was an art student." 
 
 They were looking at a brilliantly lighted shop 
 window ; crowds of people seemingly without a care 
 in the world were passing and repassing. 
 
 " The Reign of Terror has not interfered much
 
 142 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 with business as yet," Landes said, "but wait." 
 They were drawing near their destination. 
 
 " What did you do with the paper on which Faus- 
 tine wrote the countersign ? " 
 
 " I have it." 
 
 " Tear it up, we know the word Viroflay. 
 
 " Yes -Viroflay." Landes tore the paper into 
 little bits and dropped them out of the window. 
 The cab drew up before the Cafe Blanc-bee. Ellice 
 paid, prudently declining a battle over the tip which 
 the cabby offered him, and followed Landes on to 
 the terrace. They ordered coffee and sat down as if 
 they meant to spend the evening. There were not 
 many people on the shabby terrace. A vilely 
 scented souteneur, a poor girl or two, but not a 
 single uniform, for which they thanked their stars. 
 After a while the bulky proprietor came and sur 
 veyed his guests. When he saw the two National 
 Guards he hailed them with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Good-evening, comrades. What battalion ?" 
 
 "Two hundred and sixty-fifth," answered Landes, 
 pleasantly, but at the same time he gave Jack the 
 sign to move on. 
 
 " Did you say the two hundred and sixty-fifth ? " 
 wheezed the host. 
 
 " Yes, Colonel Tribert," said Landes, rising 
 slowly and moving away. 
 
 " Wait, comrade, will you please take a message 
 to my son ? You know him, perhaps, Paul Martin, 
 private in the third company." 
 
 Landes had to stop and wait until the man wad 
 dled up.
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT, 143 
 
 " No, I don t know Paul Martin." 
 
 " And your friend ? " looking at Ellice. Jack 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Now it would oblige me very much if you would 
 inquire for my son in the third company, and give 
 him a message for me. Ask him to get leave for an 
 hour or two to-night. Tell him, Monsieur," here 
 he stuck his face into Landes " tell him at nine 
 there will be a little supper a few delicacies some 
 good wine, a duck est ce-que je sais moi ? Well, 
 something better than camp fare at least. Will you 
 ask him, Monsieur? " 
 
 Landes promised and started again to go, but old 
 Martin seized him by the arm and poured out fat- 
 voiced thanks mingled with cries of joy. " Come 
 yourself, also, you and your comrade mon Dieu ! 
 you young fellows can get two hours leave ! Come 
 and bring the ladies if you like I don t care. Cr 
 nom d un nom il faut bien qu on s amuse ! " 
 
 To get away from him Landes promised every 
 thing, and the fat reprobate let him go at last in a 
 shower of " au revoirs ! " 
 
 " Did you see his nose? The old sinner! " said 
 Ellice, in disgust. As they crossed the dirty Canal 
 St. Martin, Philip begged him to speak lower and 
 keep an eye open for sentries. 
 
 " We ve got our revolvers," said Jack. 
 
 " Yes," thought Landes, " but if we have to fire 
 the game s up. There ! the Impasse de la Mort," 
 he said aloud ; " now keep quiet and let me do the 
 talking if we re challenged." 
 
 " Lord ! You re welcome," said Jack.
 
 144 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 They crossed the street and entered the mouth of 
 a narrow alley lighted dimly by a single oil lamp at 
 the farther end, but no challenge came from the 
 darkness, and there was no sound except the echo of 
 their own footsteps. 
 
 When they had gone about a third of the way 
 down the alley a door was flung open in a house 
 between them and the gate which they had just 
 passed, a gleam of light shone out, and a babel of 
 voices filled the narrow court. Then the door was 
 slammed, the voices ceased, and the place was in 
 darkness again. But the two friends had seen a sol 
 dier come out of the door and walk toward the en 
 trance of the alley. 
 
 " It s the sentinel ; he s been drinking in there, 
 that s why we were not challenged," whispered 
 Ellice. 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Landes, and he started 
 toward the figure now standing in the mouth of the 
 alley. He had almost reached the sentinel before 
 the fellow heard him, and swinging about brought 
 his rifle awkwardly to the charge. 
 
 " Qui vive ! " he bellowed, ferociously. 
 
 " Friend of the Commune ! " 
 
 " Advance three paces, friend of the Commune ! " 
 
 Philip obeyed carelessly. 
 
 " Halt ! " 
 
 " Philip stopped, cocked his kepi, thrust his hands 
 into his pockets, and said : " Come, come, comrade ; 
 not so much fuss ! You leave your post to get a 
 drink, and Thiers himself might have passed." 
 
 The sentinel, a thick-witted lout, was frightened,
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 145 
 
 and tried to hide it by angrily demanding the coun 
 tersign. 
 
 " Viroflay ! Viroflay ! For all you know it might 
 be Versailles ! Really this indiscipline is dis 
 gusting." 
 
 The sentinel dropped the butt of his musket to the 
 ground and stared hard, trying to see Landes face 
 in the half darkness. 
 
 " What s your battalion ? " he asked, nervously. 
 
 "That s none of your business." 
 
 "You re not very polite, comrade," whined the 
 fellow, who began to fear he had to do with an offi 
 cer on his rounds in private s uniform. 
 
 " I m polite when I choose to be. Why did you 
 leave your post ? " 
 
 " Voyons, comrade it was only a moment just 
 a step to the Bec-de-Gaz there and this is very 
 dry work. You would n t report me ? " 
 
 " What s your battalion ? " 
 
 " Why, the 265th ! " said the man, surprised and 
 suspicious again. 
 
 Philip saw his slip and caught himself up. 
 
 " Good ! You re not so drunk that you can t tell 
 that ! " he said. 
 
 " Drunk ! " cried the sentinel, "when I only had a 
 petit verre ! " 
 
 "That will do. Your company?" demanded 
 Philip, sternly. 
 
 " Third," stammered the man, perplexed and 
 frightened once more. 
 
 " Your name? " 
 
 " Paul Martin."
 
 146 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Landes whistled softly. Then he burst into a hearty 
 laugh and clapped the sentinel on the shoulder. 
 
 " I was joking," he said. " Don t take it amiss, 
 comrade. I ve got a message for you from your 
 father." 
 
 " Farceur ! " cried Martin, angrily, but much re 
 lieved. " You gave me a fine scare ! How did I 
 know but it was that martinet Cluseret? " 
 
 " D n Cluseret ! " swaggered Philip. " How long 
 are you on duty ? " 
 
 " Until midnight. The Captain soaked it to me 
 for losing three buttons. What does my father 
 want ? " 
 
 " He wants you to get two hours liberty. There s 
 a duck, some good wine, and good company at the 
 Cafe Blanc-bee, at nine o clock." 
 
 " Fichtre ! I can t go." 
 
 " Ask the Captain." 
 
 " Look here, my friend, I see you don t belong to 
 the third company, or you would know that pig 
 headed Captain Pau. Do you think after he s stuck 
 me with six hours extra sentry he s going to give 
 me two hours liberty ? What is your company 
 anyway?" 
 
 Landes ignored the question. 
 
 "I m sorry you can t come; Monsieur Martin 
 invited me too." 
 
 " And to think that I must miss it, I who live 
 on you know what they choke us with here ! " 
 
 " Do I know ! " groaned Philip. 
 
 "Duck, did you say?" The man banged his 
 rifle viciously against the stones.
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 1 47 
 
 " Duck and green peas," repeated Philip, carelessly. 
 
 " And old wine ? The Beaune that he drinks 
 himself no doubt." 
 
 " He said good wine and tender duck. " 
 
 " Don t, comrade, my mouth is watering ! " 
 
 " Diable ! so is mine ! " laughed Philip. 
 
 The sentinel cursed his luck so heartily that 
 Landes laughed all the more. Then he said, pre 
 tending to have a sudden thought and coming close 
 to Martin : " Listen, comrade, I believe we can ar 
 range it, after all. Where is the sentinel in front 
 of Colonel Tribert s house?" 
 
 " He is n t in front any more. He s stationed 
 in the hallway. Why?" 
 
 " Never mind, let me see, Colonel Tribert s 
 house is is " 
 
 " The third from the end of the cul-de-sac, on 
 the right. Has n t your company been on guard 
 here?" 
 
 " No not yet. Well, now suppose I should get 
 you a substitute would the Colonel find it out?" 
 
 " No he does n t know me and besides, he s 
 gone away." 
 
 " And your Captain ? " 
 
 " He s gone too with the Colonel to the Hotel 
 de Ville." 
 
 " Then if I get someone to take your place you 
 could come for an hour to the petit souper and 
 not be missed." 
 
 "Can you do that?" 
 
 " Well, one of my comrades has gone into the 
 Impasse to see his girl. He 11 stand here for us,
 
 148 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 I 11 engage, if we bring him a half bottle and a 
 wing of something ! " 
 
 " Tiens ! an idea ! Ask him ! " 
 
 Philip ran to where Ellice was concealed in a 
 doorway, and told him in a few words of the 
 chance that he had found. Jack whispered, "All 
 right ! " and they returned together to the sentry. 
 
 " My comrade, Victor, of the sixth whispered 
 Landes to Martin, " give him your chassepot, and 
 hurry." 
 
 " Are n t you coming too ?" 
 
 " In ten minutes. I m going to fetch a lady 
 your father said I might." 
 
 " Ah c est a ! " Martin s coarse voice broke 
 into a chuckle. " Then I won t wait and I say, 
 comrade bring two." 
 
 " If I can," said Philip, hiding his disgust, " now 
 hurry." 
 
 Martin slunk quickly out of the alley, muttering, 
 " don t forget, Viroflay is the word," and disap 
 peared in the direction of the Canal. As soon as he 
 had vanished Landes turned to Ellice. 
 
 " Jack, Tribert has gone to the Hotel de Ville. 
 His house is the little one there at the end of the 
 alley, the third on the right. There s a sentry in the 
 hallway. I m going to reconnoitre." 
 
 " I 11 come too." 
 
 They walked rapidly toward the house. 
 
 " What a rat-trap," said Jack, eying the end of 
 the Impasse, which was a dead wall. 
 
 " What s the use of saying so if it is," said Landes, 
 nervously.
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 149 
 
 "There s the house and here s the sentry!" 
 
 " Qui vive ! " came the challenge, followed by a 
 rattle of accoutrements in the doorway. 
 
 " Friends of the Commune ! " 
 
 " Advance three paces, friends of the Commune ! 
 Halt!" 
 
 " Hst! Viroflay!" It s all right," said Landes, 
 walking up to the doorway. " Paul Martin is in 
 trouble again." 
 
 What s he done now? " inquired the sentry, 
 leaning carelessly on his rifle. 
 
 "You know how the Captain soaked him about 
 the buttons ?" 
 
 " Yes, six hours extra sentry." 
 
 " Well, he s been found away from his post now. 
 He just went into the Bec-de-Gaz to drink, and 
 along comes comes 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " You know," whispered Landes, who was stuck 
 fast. 
 
 " You don t mean Grissot? " 
 
 " Yes Grissot himself." 
 
 " Whew ! Poor Paul ! What did old Grissot do ? " 
 
 "Come in and I 11 tell you," and Landes walked 
 into the house with a swagger and a cock of his k6pi 
 that would have carried conviction in any Federal 
 battalion. Ellice followed in the same fashion, and 
 they entered a big bare office, lighted by a single 
 candle. 
 
 " Wait ! " cried the sentry, a beardless youth, with 
 prominent eyes and retreating chin, "you can t go 
 in there."
 
 150 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Oh, it s all right," laughed Philip, " have you got 
 anything to eat?" 
 
 " No, but there s a bottle of cognac in that closet 
 if you ir\vait till 
 
 " Can t wait." 
 
 " If the Colonel comes " 
 
 " Oh, he won t come let s have a drink," said 
 Landes, coming nearer with a glance at Ellice who 
 was watching him. " Hello ! What s wrong with 
 your rifle ? Is that the way 
 
 " What ? What ? " said the sentry, looking down 
 at it. Landes tripped him up and held his mouth 
 closed while Ellice jerked the rifle out of his hands. 
 
 " Tear up that curtain, Jack quick the fool is 
 trying to bite me." In a minute the astonished 
 sentry had his mouth stuffed with a ball of cloth, a 
 band about his face to keep it in and strong bandages 
 around both ankles and both arms. 
 
 " Fine troops these Federals," laughed Landes ; 
 "we d better go on and capture the city. Quick, 
 let s get him into that closet." 
 
 " There he goes ! " 
 
 " Good ! Lock him in ! " 
 
 Jack locked the door and put the key in his pocket. 
 " Hark ! What s that ? " he said as a door opened 
 and a voice sounded on the floor above. They crept 
 to the foot of the stairs and listened, then mounted 
 silently. 
 
 " Keep out of sight," Landes motioned. They 
 had reached the landing and Philip, who was first, 
 could see into the room whose door stood open. 
 He looked and drew back with a face that made
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. !$! 
 
 Jack s blood run cold. Putting his mouth close to 
 Ellice s ear Landes whispered, "Tribert is there." 
 
 The voice was plain enough now and the words 
 were perfectly audible to both listeners. 
 
 " What are you whining about ? " growled Tribert, 
 addressing someone in an inner room. " It s your 
 own fault. I Ve told you what I would do, and 
 it s more than anybody else would do for you." 
 There was no reply. Landes saw him pick up a sword 
 from a camp-stool and attach it to his clasp. Then 
 he took a brace of revolvers from the mantle, thrust 
 them into his belt, and turned again to the invisible 
 occupant of the next room. 
 
 " No more whining, I say. If you want to go 
 home to Tours, I tell you I 11 send you there safely, 
 but only on that condition. As for this scarlet and 
 black dandy in spurs, he s going to stay here." 
 
 "Then I shall stay too," came the answer in a 
 clear sweet voice, ringing with defiance. 
 
 Tribert made an ominous gesture. 
 
 " Be careful, you two ! I m going now to the 
 Hotel de Ville. If you want to get safely to Tours, 
 Madame, you will persuade your fellow aristocrat to 
 hear reason. If he does not make up his mind to 
 accept my proposition before I leave this room it 
 will be bad for both of you. Yes, both do you hear 
 me, Captain de Carette?" 
 
 Philip s heart leaped into his throat. He reached 
 back and clutched Jack, who nodded that he had 
 heard. 
 
 There was a slight pause, then Alain s voice, cool 
 and contemptuous :
 
 152 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " I was not paying attention. What did you say ? " 
 
 " I said," roared Tribert, " that you had better 
 decide now. The Commune has voted the Law of 
 Suspects. If Raoul Rigault catches you it means a 
 file of men and a dead wall for you. I, on the 
 other hand, offer you command of a battalion." 
 
 "Oh! a battalion ?" 
 
 " Of Turcos." 
 
 "Turcos?" 
 
 " I said so." 
 
 " Ah ! Turcos from Belleville ? " 
 
 " How reckless," thought Landes, " to prod a wild 
 beast when you are in his den ! " The sullen roar 
 began to sound again in Tribert s voice but he 
 restrained himself. The hope of securing a regular 
 officer and an aristocrat for the Commune s army 
 was worth some self-restraint. 
 
 " Well, and what have you against Turcos from 
 Belleville, Monsieur the Aristocrat? The battalion 
 is formed we 11 see which will fight the best, when 
 it is face to face with your yellow monkeys from 
 Algiers. Will you command it or no ? " 
 
 " Do you mean will I turn traitor to save myself?" 
 
 "Answer me ! " snarled Tribert. 
 
 " I must trouble you to loosen this rope a little 
 first ; it s too tight. Torture is n t included, as yet, 
 in the procedure of the Commune, is it ? " 
 
 " He 11 give it an extra twist for that," thought 
 Landes ; "why will Alain be so foolish?" and he re 
 membered how he had flung a haughty affront in 
 the face of the ex-valet on Montmartre. " He won t 
 get off this time," Landes thought, with a sinking
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 153 
 
 heart. But Tribert, after a second s hesitation, 
 tramped into the next room, and his voice was heard 
 saying : 
 
 " Which rope ? Oh, this ? " 
 
 " Not that way, you tighten it ! " 
 
 A pause. 
 
 " You find that painful ? " growledTribert. 
 
 "Very," answered Alain, drily. 
 
 " Well, you know how to escape these little annoy 
 ances. Listen to me, once for all ; if the Versailles 
 troops see Turcos on our side, commanded by a 
 regular officer, they will desert to us. That is why 
 we want you ! This is your chance. Under the 
 Commune, promotion ; you can become what you 
 will. If you refuse, we shall sweep Thiers and his 
 traitors into the Seine all the same, and you 
 
 "Tribert," said de Carette, with insulting omission 
 of the Colonel, " if I live to catch you outside of 
 this place I will have you shot for attempting to 
 corrupt the Line." There was a short silence, then a 
 blow and a fall. 
 
 " Shame ! " cried a faint voice, the voice of a 
 woman ; " shame on you ! 
 
 " Now for it ! " panted Landes, drawing his re 
 volver ; " now, Jack ! " and they stole into the outer 
 room. 
 
 " Here he comes," whispered Ellice. 
 
 Tribert appeared in the inner doorway, saw them, 
 opened his mouth to shout, tried to sieze his re 
 volver, and fell to the floor with a queer choking 
 gasp. Landes had struck him full in the face with 
 the butt of his pistol. Before he had time to fall,
 
 154 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Philip struck him again, savagely, full on the temple. 
 Then he measured his length on the floor. 
 
 " Go in, Jack, I dare n t leave this beast yet." 
 
 Jack sprang into the second room, while Landes 
 seized Tribert by the legs and dragged him into a 
 small room at the head of the stairs. By the dim 
 light from the hall he unwound Tribert s sash, twisted 
 it into a rope and bound him hand and foot as tightly 
 as he could draw the knots. Then he took a small 
 towel from the washstand, rolled it into a ball, 
 stuffed it into the unconscious man s mouth, tied it 
 on with strips torn from another towel, and opened 
 a window to let in fresh air. " I ought to let him 
 smother," he said to himself, as he slipped out, 
 locked the door, pocketed the key, and hurried back 
 to find the prisoners. As he stepped into the outer 
 room a tattered and bloody object seized and hugged 
 him. 
 
 " De Carette ! You here ! " was all Landes could 
 trust his voice to say. Keeping hold of Alain, who 
 seemed almost to lean on him, Landes turned to the 
 inner room. There stood Ellice bending over a young 
 lady who sat on a lounge, trembling but holding up 
 her head and gazing resolutely into his face. 
 
 Landes stepped to her side. 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Brassac," he said, " don t dis- 
 trust us because of our uniforms. We have come 
 to get you away from here." 
 
 The young lady transferred her timid but unflinch 
 ing gaze to Philip s face. She seemed bewildered. 
 De Carette drew him away, saying, with a queer 
 laugh :
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 155 
 
 " That is not Mademoiselle de Brassac. She is 
 locked in another room. I 11 show you. Come." 
 
 "For God s sake, hurry!" cried Landes. Alain 
 tried to follow, but stumbled and leaned on his 
 friend. 
 
 " That rope was tight," he muttered. Philip sup 
 ported him while he led the way up two steps, down 
 a short narrow entry, to a closed door. 
 
 " We shall have to break it in," he said, and gath 
 ered what remained of his strength for one more 
 effort. Together they threw themselves, full weight, 
 against the door ; it gave way, crashing and splinter 
 ing, and sent them head foremost into the room. 
 
 Shocked at having entered in such a manner, 
 Landes drew himself up and stood stiffly near the 
 shattered door. There was an unshaded lamp on a 
 table. Beside it stood a young girl, motionless. 
 Her beautiful eyes, dilated with fear and courage, 
 looked black in the half light, her white face was 
 calm, one delicate hand rested easily on the table. 
 
 There was no mistake this time. Philip would 
 have known her among a million. Jeanne de Bras- 
 sac had grown to be a woman. Her fair hair gath 
 ered back from the full temples, her sweet eyes, the 
 curve of her lips, and above all that soft little hand 
 resting quietly, just as it rested on her mother s arm 
 so long ago. 
 
 " What do you wish, Messieurs ? " she said, as if 
 their appearance had been quite regular. 
 
 " I I am Philip Landes," he stammered. 
 
 " Philip Landes ! " she cried, and her startled eyes 
 looked into his.
 
 156 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 De Carette had somehow regained his feet. His 
 clothes were torn and bloody, his face was ghastly 
 pale, his voice scarcely audible ; but he came forward 
 and made her a bow with perfect grace. 
 
 " My name is Alain de Carette, Captain of Artillery 
 in the regular army, taken this morning at the St. 
 Lazare Station by the Federals, and a fellow pris 
 oner with you in this house all day " he hesitated 
 " there is a lady too " then went on hurriedly 
 " and this, Mademoiselle de Brassac, is Philip 
 Landes, your brother s friend, who risks his life to 
 save yours." 
 
 With an exquisite gesture Jeanne de Brassac held 
 out her hand to Landes. " That is what my father 
 said you would do, Monsieur " 
 
 " We must hurry," said de Carette in the ghost of 
 a voice, " if we are to get away from here," and led 
 the way back to the room where Ellice stood, seem 
 ingly oblivious of surroundings, in delighted attend 
 ance on the bewildered and haughty young lady, 
 who, when she saw another woman ungratefully 
 said, " God be praised ! " and went to meet Jeanne 
 without giving Jack a glance. 
 
 " Madam Mademoiselle de St. Brieuc," said de 
 Carette, " this is Mademoiselle de Brassac. We 
 have not one moment to lose. Will you come, ladies? 
 Philip, will you lead ? " 
 
 "You can t go out that way. Your uniform " 
 
 " I m not going with you. I shall wait till you 
 get clear." 
 
 " You think we would go and leave you ? There 
 take my overcoat, and Tribert s cap is on the land 
 ing outside."
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 1 57 
 
 " That is a private s overcoat take this." Jeanne 
 de Brassac caught a Federal officer s overcoat from a 
 peg on the wall. 
 
 Ellice helped Alain on with it ; Landes brought 
 Tribert s cap. " Now you are perfect. Will you 
 lead the way ? We may meet a sentry after all." 
 
 The ladies had caught up their wraps and con 
 cealed their faces in them. 
 
 Not a soul was stirring in the Impasse de la Mort 
 as they emerged from Tribert s headquarters. 
 
 Silently they moved toward the entrance. The 
 sentry had not returned and his absence had not 
 been discovered. They were cautiously stepping 
 out into the Faubourg du Temple when they met 
 Martin face to face. He was accompanied by a file 
 of soldiers, but he was too drunk to care, and chanted 
 in a low sentimental voice : 
 
 " Oh, take me to my love ! 
 Oh, take me to my love ! 
 Oh (hie !), take me to my (hie !) " 
 
 "The game s up!" muttered Ellice, "here s 
 Martin." At the same moment Martin discovered 
 Landes and yelled with delight. 
 
 " Fine dinner, good wine, mon vieux ! " he shouted, 
 " never had better. Ladies, you are too late ! " 
 
 " Silence ! " commanded de Carette, sternly ; then 
 with a haughty gesture to the officer in charge, 
 " Halt ! Lieutenant, what do you mean by per 
 mitting a drunken soldier to insult an officer accom 
 panied by ladies ? " 
 
 The moment was critical. The lieutenant had 
 barred the way and was motioning his men to close
 
 158 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 in, but this attack frightened him. He saw the four 
 gold bands on de Carette s cap, and although in that 
 dim light it was impossible to distinguish features, 
 yet Alain s bearing of superior officer was not to be 
 mistaken, and the cold authority of his tone made 
 the young lieutenant shiver. He stuttered and 
 stammered and saluted obsequiously, but froze stiff 
 when Landes, seeing the impression already made, 
 quietly stepped to Alain s side, saluted with much 
 deference, and said something in a voice too low to 
 be heard, excepting the word " Cluseret," which he 
 caused to reach the lieutenant s startled ears. Alain 
 nodded curtly to Philip and turned again to the 
 Federal officer. 
 
 " Report to your captain and consider yourself 
 under arrest ! Sergeant, take that drunkard to the 
 guard-house. Thirty days police cell. Set two sen 
 tries at the gate and allow no one to leave the Im 
 passe until you have my orders. Why is there no 
 sentry in front of Colonel Tribert s headquarters ? 
 Set two there at once and let no one enter or leave 
 the house until you have the order from General 
 Cluseret. By heaven ! I 11 bring this battalion 
 under discipline or I 11 disband it. March ! " 
 
 Like a flock of sheep the detachment crowded into 
 the Impasse and the little party of fugitives hurried 
 away toward the Canal St. Martin. 
 
 Landes and Mademoiselle de Brassac walked first ; 
 Ellice came next with the silent, frightened stranger on 
 his arm ; de Carette brought up the rear. The street 
 was not well lighted but there were many people 
 passing, and now and then some, keener-sighted and
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT, 1 59 
 
 more curious than the rest, would stop and stare back 
 at them ; sometimes these would speak to others 
 who also turned and stared. 
 
 When this had happened several times Alain 
 joined Philip. " We are attracting attention, our 
 party is too large," he whispered. 
 
 " Yes, I see. I m afraid we must separate." 
 
 "Where are you going? " asked de Carette. 
 
 " Why, as we decided last night at the War Min 
 istry, to the Montparnasse Station. Mademoiselle 
 de Brassac must be on her way to Chartres within 
 an hour, if possible." 
 
 " I m afraid it is n t possible." 
 
 " But the Montparnasse Station is not guarded. 
 Ellice says so." 
 
 " It was not guarded at noon, but who knows 
 what may have been done by this time ? I would 
 not dare venture if I were you." 
 
 " What in the world can we do then ? Where can 
 she go ? " 
 
 " It seems to me this is n t the time to choose, if 
 there were any choice, but there is n t," began Alain. 
 
 Ellice interrupted, pressing forward with Made 
 moiselle de St. Brieuc : " Philip, do you see how the 
 people are staring ? We ve got to separate, and the 
 sooner the better ! " 
 
 " Captain de Carette thinks the Gare Montparnasse 
 may be guarded by this time," said Landes. 
 
 "Then give that up," urged Ellice. "You take a 
 cab with Mademoiselle de Brassac ; we 11 walk on a 
 little and take another, we three, then, all make for 
 my studio, by different routes."
 
 I6O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Why not for mine ? " 
 
 " Mine is nearer, and safer, because it is mine. 
 Rigault and Company don t know me as well as 
 they do you." 
 
 " Monsieur s advice is excellent," said de Carette, 
 in a faint voice. " Will you call a cab, Philip? 
 
 "Alain, dear old fellow, you are suffering?" whis 
 pered Philip, while Jack hurried off in the direction 
 of a cab-stand. Alain leaned against his friend with 
 out answering. Mademoiselle de Brassac gently 
 begged to know if he was badly hurt ; the other lady 
 trembled violently but did not speak. 
 
 A cab stopped beside them. Jack sprang out and 
 waited for Philip, but he turned to de Carette. " We 
 will follow you immediately, Alain." De Carette 
 drew himself up with an effort, bowed, and motioned 
 Mademoiselle de St. Brieuc to enter. She glanced 
 at him, hesitated, and obeyed. He followed her 
 inside and then quietly fainted away. Ellice sprang 
 after him, Landes gave the driver hasty directions, 
 and came and leaned in at the window. 
 
 " Is he very ill ? Why, he s all over fresh blood. 
 He s been shot in the body somewhere!" Then Made 
 moiselle de St. Brieuc seemed to throw off her stupor, 
 and turning to Ellice said : " he was shot in the 
 shoulder this morning at the Gare St. Lazare where 
 they killed my uncle. I know a little about sur 
 gery. If you can take him to a safe place I can help 
 care for him ! 
 
 " Good ! " said Ellice ; " Philip, tell the man to 
 drive on. Join us as soon as possible, at my place." 
 
 The cab rolled away. Landes and Mademoiselle
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. l6l 
 
 de Brassac were left standing alone in the Faubourg 
 du Temple. He glanced down at her quiet face and 
 offered his arm. She took it with simple confidence, 
 and they walked away together. Turning at the 
 first corner they entered a dark side street, going 
 slowly at first, but hurrying as soon as they dared. 
 Her step was light and firm, her hand rested on his 
 arm like a feather, and she breathed easily in spite 
 of their rapid pace. 
 
 " Are you tired ? and frightened ? " he asked, as 
 they approached a lighted Boulevard. 
 
 " No. Are we in any danger now? " 
 
 " I think not. I think the worst is over. We will 
 
 take a cab just beyond that lamp, and " His 
 
 tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. 
 
 Raoul Rigault was ivalking at his elbow. 
 
 He saw the small eyes blinking through the 
 glasses, the coarse red lips, moist and venomous 
 under the beard, and with all his strength he struck 
 him. Once, twice, he felt the impact of his clenched 
 fist on that hideous face, then he heard cries and 
 shouts, the noise of feet, and clamour of voices ; his 
 hand was seized and he found himself running, 
 drawn along by Jeanne de Brassac, who sped lightly 
 at his side, her fingers tightly clasped in his. Be 
 hind was the noise of pursuit. 
 
 "Turn here!" he breathed, and they swung into 
 a long dark alley, traversed it, and entered another. 
 " Turn here ! " he repeated, and they were in a nar 
 row, squalid street, where they had to stop running 
 and pick their way through mire. The shouts be 
 hind them seemed drawing nearer. They reached
 
 1 62 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 a broader street, fairly well lighted and cleaner, but 
 almost deserted, and dashed recklessly through it. 
 Into a dark street again, he did not know where, 
 he was lost for the moment, dark, narrow, and in 
 terminable, he could hear his heart beating and her 
 skirts flapping in the March wind, as she ran beside 
 him, her hand close clasped in his. 
 
 " Are you tired ? " he faltered. 
 
 " No ! no ! " she panted, and she increased her 
 pace. They came to an open square. 
 
 " We must walk now," said Landes. 
 
 They listened ; the pursuit seemed falling off. 
 
 " They must have gone another way. Oh, for a 
 cab while there is time ! " he groaned, freeing his 
 eyes from the sweat that rolled into them from his 
 hair, and peering across the square. " There ! I 
 think I saw one ! " and he crossed over, forcing 
 himself and Jeanne to walk slowly. 
 
 " Au large ! Au large / on ne passe pas ! " came 
 from the street they were approaching, and the Com 
 mune s pickets took it up along the square. 
 
 " A barricade ! Come ! " and he bore due west 
 once more. 
 
 To reach Ellice s studio, in the rue de Sfax, it was 
 necessary to go north. Again and again when they 
 tried to cross in that direction they were stopped 
 by the warning challenge and the rattle of bayonets. 
 
 " The city is cut in two ! I don t know how to 
 reach the rue de Sfax from here ; the barricades 
 block us, and we dare not go back to the Boule 
 vards." 
 
 " What can we do then ? " she asked, with just the
 
 THE IMPASSE DE LA MORT. 163 
 
 slightest break in her voice. He stopped, full of 
 pity. 
 
 " But please don t think I am complaining ! " she 
 said quickly. " I am not afraid, I trust you im 
 plicitly, and I am not tired either." 
 
 In miserable helplessness he gazed about him. 
 There was but one route open. Toward the north 
 barricades closed every outlet, but the west was 
 clear as far as he could see. 
 
 " I think we could reach my studio," he hesitated, 
 " but if 
 
 " I will be very grateful to you, Monsieur," said 
 Mademoiselle de Brassac. 
 
 " Then we must look for a cab on the quay," and 
 giving her his arm once more, he cautiously ap 
 proached the river. " If Raoul Rigault s spies have 
 found out where I live," he thought, " the quays will 
 be watched. That may be the reason why the pur 
 suit fell off." With his heart in his mouth, therefore^ 
 he made his way to a long line of cabs, selected one 
 and hailed the driver. 
 
 " Can you get us through the barricades to the 
 rue de Sfax? " 
 
 The cabby shook his head. " Not for all your 
 money, Monsieur," he grinned. 
 
 " Very well. Then 70 rue Notre Dame. Drive 
 fast!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HEMMED IN. 
 
 IT was midnight when the cab drew up before the 
 ivy-covered alley which leads past the porter s 
 lodge to the white-walled garden and Landes 
 studio. Joseph answered the gate bell, stared an 
 instant, and, quickly comprehending, received them 
 with devotion. 
 
 " We were separated from Mr. Ellice and the rest, 
 and the barricades cut us off from Mr. Ellice s studio 
 so we had to come here," said Landes. 
 
 " Bon ! Monsieur Philip," replied Joseph, and fol 
 lowed reverentially as the young man led his guest 
 between the ivy-hung walls, into the glimmering 
 garden, and across to the studio door. 
 
 "It is very dark," said Landes, entering first and 
 drawing the shade from the glass roof to the exten 
 sion, to let in a bit of palely lighted midnight sky. 
 41 Please stand still a moment now give me your 
 hand." And he guided her to a chair. 
 
 The concierge lighted a lamp, set a match to the 
 fire, and departed, saying to Philip as he passed him 
 that he would bring hot water for tea. 
 
 "Thank you, Joseph," said Philip, in a low voice, 
 and the faithful one withdrew on tiptoe. 
 
 The lamp-light filled one side of the studio with 
 164
 
 HEMMED IN. 165 
 
 a warm glow, leaving the other side full of shadow. 
 In the fireplace little blue flames and thin spirals of 
 smoke were curling up. Jeanne de Brassac leaned 
 back in her chair with closed eyes and white face. 
 Philip stood and looked at her. As he realized the 
 unsuitableness of her surroundings, the color flashed 
 to the roots of his hair. But there was no time for 
 reflection ; Joseph came in again, bringing a tea-kettle 
 and an alcohol lamp, and the duties of a host became 
 imperative. 
 
 While the tea was being made and drunk, Joseph, 
 stopping now and then to exchange a murmured 
 word with Landes, was passing quickly and quietly 
 up and down a quaint staircase with a carved wooden 
 balustrade, which led from the lower end of the 
 studio up to a small landing and a door. Presently 
 his journeyings ceased, and with a bow full of fatherly 
 kindness and profound respect to the young lady, 
 he said, "Good-night, Monsieur Philip," and disap 
 peared. Then Landes turned timidly to his guest. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I regret exceedingly that it was 
 impossible for us to join the others at Mr. Ellice s 
 studio but at least you are safe here for a day or 
 two, until we can find an opportunity for your escape 
 to Chartres. There is a room at the head of that 
 staircase which I beg to place at your disposal. I 
 shall be below here, in the room yonder, or else in 
 this room. You can rest peacefully, for Joseph and 
 I will keep watch. I cannot express," he added in a 
 voice of deep feeling, " my sense of the unfitness of 
 this place, and my regret that it is all I have to offer 
 you."
 
 1 66 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Mademoiselle de Brassac rose and held out her 
 hand. The lamp-light shone full in her violet eyes 
 as she raised them to Philip ; here face was white 
 with the pallor of physical and mental exhaustion, 
 and she drooped a little as she stood. Her bearing 
 combined the exquisite docility of a convent-bred 
 girl with the dignity of a very young lady. " It 
 seems to me, Monsieur," she said, " that it is I who 
 shall never be able to express my gratitude. May I 
 go to my room now? " 
 
 Landes took up a lighted candle and asked diffi 
 dently if he might show her the way. She thanked 
 him and followed up the stair. He could feel her 
 lean wearily on the balustrade, and hear her little 
 tired feet drag. He paused on the landing for her 
 to join him, and then opening the door stood aside 
 for her to enter. A glow and crackle of wood fire 
 from the hearth came out, and the setter puppy 
 rushed frantically forward, seizing her dress. Jeanne 
 uttered a cry and stooped toward him : the large 
 yellow cat rose on the bed opposite, stretched, and 
 blinked. " Oh, Tcherka ! Tcherka ! " cried the girl, 
 stepping swiftly forward, and took the cat in her 
 arms. Then she sank down sobbing beside the bed, 
 Landes set the light on a table and went away, 
 closing the door softly. 
 
 The long strain had told. At the sight of those 
 helpless creatures the last remnant of her courage 
 broke down ; she lay with her face buried in Tcherka s 
 soft fur, and gave way to bitter grief for her dead 
 father. 
 
 Landes, standing in the studio below, listened to
 
 HEMMED IN, l6/ 
 
 her desolate weeping as long as he could bear it, 
 then with his own eyes full of tears, he caught up 
 his hat and went to find the concierge. 
 
 Joseph was fussing about the gate with a lan 
 tern. A late half-moon had risen just above the 
 house-tops. 
 
 " Joseph ! " said Landes, irritably, stamping along 
 the walk. " What the devil are you doing ? Go to 
 bed ! " The faithful one circled respectfully around 
 Landes and touched his cap. 
 
 " You walk like an eagle in the Jardin des 
 Plantes ! " said Landes, with a nervous laugh ; " stop 
 it and tell me what you are doing here at one o clock 
 in the morning ! " 
 
 " Monsieur Philip, I was fixing a padlock on the 
 gate. The street below near the rue Vavin is full 
 of soldiers. Hark ! do you hear the sound of the 
 picks? " 
 
 An icy chill ran down Landes spinal column. 
 " What are they doing with picks? " 
 
 J< Making a barricade ; a fine one, you can see 
 them from the middle of the street. They are down 
 by the convent, just around the curve. Listen ! " 
 Through the silence came the sharp clink ! clink ! 
 of steel pick-axes striking granite; and while he lis 
 tened to that, another sound began and increased 
 the distant noise of an approaching throng. Nearer 
 it came and nearer, and now he could distinguish 
 the measured cadence of marching feet, the short, 
 sharp clank of trailing scabbards, and the rumble of 
 artillery. 
 
 " Put out that light ! They are coming up this
 
 1 68 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 street ! " Joseph obeyed in silence. Nearer and 
 nearer came the clanking, jangling cannon, the 
 trample of horses, the jingle of bit and spur, until 
 the echoes awoke among the opposite houses, and 
 the whole air vibrated with the clash of steel. 
 
 A shadowy figure rode straight up the street, 
 horse and rider pale in the moonlight ; another rider 
 followed, then two more, then three, then a dozen, 
 and still they came, shrouded in heavy cloaks, their 
 long sabres hanging straight down behind their 
 spurred boots, clouds of frosty steam streaming from 
 nostril and flank. 
 
 Cannon were passing too, pieces of seven, long 
 and wicked, mitrailleuses, shapeless dark lumps on 
 wheels, with queer little toy caissons trailing be 
 hind. 
 
 Along the sidewalk shuffled the insurgent infantry, 
 thin men with hollow eyes that turned in their 
 sockets like those of the very sick or insane. 
 
 Before the rear-guard had passed, the ominous 
 clank of pick-axes and crowbars was renewed, but 
 this time it came from the head of the column, 
 which seemed to have reached the intersection of 
 the rue Notre Dame and the rue Bara. 
 
 " They are barricading the street at both ends! 
 We are hemmed in ! " whispered Landes. 
 
 Someone came to the gate and hammered on it 
 with the butt of a revolver. Landes stepped into 
 the porter s lodge and listened from the doorway. 
 
 "Quiet there !" growled Joseph, shuffling about 
 noisily in his sabots. " Who is it ? 
 
 " Sorry to disturb you, citizen ! " came the cheery
 
 HEMMED IN. 169 
 
 answer, with a strong English accent ; " can you give 
 me a drink of water ? " 
 
 Landes sprang to the gate. " Wilton ! Oh, I am 
 glad to see you ! Come in ! " Joseph opened the 
 gate and Philip dragged the new-comer into the 
 porter s lodge. By the candle light he appeared a 
 sturdy bright-eyed youth in a Colonel s uniform of 
 the National Guard. 
 
 " Why, Philip, old man ! I did n t know you were 
 in Paris yet." 
 
 " Well I am, and a suspect of your damned Com 
 mune." 
 
 " Rubbish ! " began Wilton, but on seeing Landes 
 face he frowned and whistled. 
 
 " You re a Colonel, Archie you ought to be able 
 to help me." 
 
 "What did you do?" 
 
 " Nothing, insulted Raoul Rigault several days 
 ago and punched his head to-night, punched a 
 Federal sentinel in the nose and took away his rifle, 
 punched Tribert, Colonel of the 265th, in the 
 nose " 
 
 Wilton burst into a wild shriek of laughter and 
 fell helplessly against the wall. 
 
 "What the devil are you making that row for? 
 Do you want to have the pickets down on us? " said 
 Landes, angrily. Joseph, astonished and motionless, 
 looked on with melancholy disapproval. 
 
 " Go on, Philip ! " gasped Wilton. " Oh, don t let 
 me interrupt you ! " 
 
 " There s nothing more, except that a trio of cut 
 throats are waiting to cut mine and also, as I was
 
 I/O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 mixed up in the Montmartre business, I m a marked 
 man on that score too." 
 
 " Well, you have managed to put your foot in 
 pretty deep. How did it come about?" 
 
 As briefly as possible Landes explained the whole 
 situation, and demanded his countryman s advice 
 and aid. 
 
 " You shall have it, my dear fellow ! You shall 
 have all the help I can give you. But how much 
 that will be and how long it will last I can t tell. 
 The Commune watches us foreign officers like a cat. 
 To-day Dombrowski is General (and a devilish good 
 one !) to-morrow the Central Committee may shoot 
 him. To-day Frankenberg, Smitz, and your humble 
 servant are Colonels to-morrow we may be kicking 
 our heels in the Mazas Prison." 
 
 " How in the world did you come to enter the 
 Federal army, Archie ? " 
 
 " It was Gustave Courbet. He got me my com 
 mission." 
 
 " But what did you do it for ? " 
 
 " Oh, I like the fun." 
 
 "Fun!" 
 
 " Well, excitement. I m a rotten painter, but I 
 think I 11 make a good soldier." 
 
 " Pity you did n t find that out in time to go to 
 West Point." 
 
 " I know it. But after all, what s the difference? 
 It s all fighting." 
 
 "And a little parading?" laughed Landes. 
 
 " Yes. I like a red-banded cap and a sword bang 
 ing about my heels."
 
 HEMMED IN. I/I 
 
 " But it s a shame to see you among those thugs ! 
 I tell you the Commune fouled its hands to the bone 
 in the bloody work on Montmartre ! " 
 
 " It was foul work," said Wilton, soberly, " and 
 they 11 have to pay for it. After the elections we 
 will rout out these assassins and purge every bat 
 talion. Anyway, you know every great cause is 
 injured by those who use its name to cloak their 
 crimes," added Archie, pompously. 
 
 " I think I Ve heard Mademoiselle Faustine 
 Courtois make a similar observation," smiled 
 Landes. 
 
 " No doubt ! No doubt ! We think alike." 
 
 " And Ynes Falaise, do you and she also think 
 alike ? " 
 
 " By jove ! is n t she a darling? So clever too! " 
 
 u Yes," said Philip, " I hear she admires your 
 uniform." 
 
 " Does she? Well, it is handsome," cried Archie, 
 with a boyish movement. " I had the galons put on 
 myself. And look at those boots ! They cost one 
 hundred and fifty francs. What are you grinning 
 at ? Think a man can t fight 
 
 " I think you 11 fight as well in boots at one hun 
 dred and fifty francs, as at fifteen francs and that s 
 like a little devil when you get going. But what 
 good will your boots and your galons do me? And 
 how will they help this young lady to get out of 
 Paris? That s what I want to know." 
 
 " What can I do for you, Philip ? " asked Wilton, 
 with a frank smile. 
 
 " Was that your battalion that just passed ? "
 
 1/2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " The Infantry ? Yes, the 266th de marche. We 
 left three hundred men at the War Ministry." 
 
 " Yes," thought Philip, grimly, " I saw some of 
 them. What are they going to do ? " he asked 
 aloud. 
 
 " The engineers are closing this street at both ends 
 with barricades, and my men escorted the artillery 
 which is to man them." 
 
 " Both ends of the rue Notre Dame are barri 
 caded ?" 
 
 " They will be by morning." 
 
 "Are you to command here?" 
 
 " Don t know." 
 
 " Can you give my concierge a pass to go and get 
 food for us? " 
 
 " To clear the barricades ? Oh, yes ! Anything 
 else ? " 
 
 "Can you keep the Federals out of the house?" 
 
 " Yes, what else ? " 
 
 " Well. I want to communicate with the Ameri 
 can Minister. First I want to place Mademoiselle de 
 Brassac under his protection, and next I want to get 
 out of the city myself. It s damned unpleasant. I 
 dare not go out by daylight. If I were recognized 
 and Raoul Rigault caught me, all the officers of the 
 National Guard could n t save me." 
 
 " Does Rigault know where you live? If he does 
 I m afraid my protection won t count for much." 
 
 " Unless his spies have found out within twenty- 
 four hours, he does n t. If he had known he would 
 have sent for me when he did for Marsy. I came 
 here during the siege, from the Hotel du Mont
 
 HEMMED IN. 1/3 
 
 Blanc. The police were thinking of other things 
 and the whole city was dodging shells. I never in 
 scribed myself and nobody asked any questions. 
 Faustine and Ynes, Jack Ellice, and one or two 
 other Americans, are all who ever knew where I 
 lived. My letters go to the bank, and the only 
 address they have at the bank is the old one. Per 
 haps I might go at night to the Legation. Of course 
 the postal union is watched." 
 
 " Of course, and the telegraph. As for the Lega 
 tion, it is surrounded by a perfect pest of spies. The 
 whole city is swarming with them. We foreigners 
 of the army are forbidden to hold any communication 
 or even approach within half a mile of any foreign 
 legation, except under orders. But it seems to me 
 you will be safe here for the present if you keep close. 
 Your concierge will have the pass to come and go. 
 Is he faithful?" 
 
 " Joseph is as true as steel and as good as gold ! " 
 said Landes in French, smiling at him. Joseph s 
 anxious and disapproving face cleared up. 
 
 "Well, then, all I have to do is to tell Raoul 
 Rigault, when it comes handy, that you ve been 
 seen in Versailles, and he 11 be off the scent for a 
 while. And I 11 manage to keep other intruders 
 away from here as long as I am in the neighborhood. 
 And I 11 do my best to get word to the American 
 Minister, but there I m doubtful. It s this infer 
 nal, ridiculous Bergeret who makes all the trouble. 
 He s jealous of all the foreign officers. Dombrow- 
 ski s a soldier but Bergeret would make an army 
 mule shed tears."
 
 1/4 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Wilton picked up his sword and moved to the gate, 
 accompanied by Philip. Joseph met them with a 
 bottle in his hand. 
 
 " Monsieur the Colonel asks for water," he said, 
 humbly. " but I, Joseph Lelocard, am proud to offer 
 Monsieur the Colonel this wine of Burgundy." Wil 
 ton took the bottle, coolly knocked off the neck, 
 filled a china bowl with the wine, and swallowed it 
 to the last drop. 
 
 " That," he said, " was drunk to the health and 
 prosperity of every one in this house. It s good 
 wine, and you re a good fellow, Joseph. Good 
 night, Philip, old chap ! Good-night, Joseph I 
 should say er Citizen," and he clanked away, 
 whistling " Marching through Georgia," with all the 
 power of his lungs. 
 
 Landes listened until far up the street he heard 
 him break off whistling to give some order in a loud, 
 happy, boyish voice. 
 
 " Joseph," said Landes, looking at the concierge 
 who was looking at the clock on the wall of his 
 lodge, " Joseph, I would give half I m worth if 
 you had not sent your wife and children away 
 just yet." 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 " But Mademoiselle de Brassac will only be de 
 tained here a day or two. We will do our best to 
 \nake her forget how rough her quarters are." 
 
 "Certainly, Monsieur." 
 
 " Well, now go to bed and have breakfast at nine, 
 coffee, hot rolls, eggs on toast, fruit, brioche, meat 
 for the cat, and bread and milk for the puppy, with a
 
 HEMMED IN. 1/5 
 
 bone scraped clean how dare you yawn when I m 
 speaking ! " 
 
 " Pardon. I did not, Monsieur. It was astonish 
 ment and admiration that Monsieur forgets nothing." 
 
 " It s nearly three o clock in the morning. Don t 
 rise early. I think we are safe and may rest. Go to 
 bed, and don t walk like a bald-headed eagle ! " he 
 broke off nervously. 
 
 " Good-night, Monsieur Philip," said Joseph, de 
 votedly ; " sleep well, Monsieur Philip." 
 
 "And you too, my good Joseph. Good-night."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JEANNE DE BRASSAC. 
 
 THE morning air had been sharp and a wood fire 
 crackled on the hearth, as Philip, fresh from 
 his cold bath, walked out into the studio. 
 Sunlight fell in golden squares and diamonds on 
 the floor, and through the glass roof of the extension 
 he could see blue sky, spring-like and cloudless. The 
 studio was silent and empty. He looked up at 
 Jeanne de Brassac s door. On the landing sat 
 Tcherka in a patch of sunshine and blinked at him 
 through the railings, her splendid green eyes follow 
 ing his movements with pleasant indifference. Un 
 willing to raise his voice in calling her, he held out 
 his hand. She retained her seat and her serene 
 composure. But when he ostentatiously brought a 
 bowl and set it on the hearth and filled it full of 
 milk, then Tcherka s voice could have been heard as 
 far as the rue Bara, while she trotted down with her 
 tail erect. At the same moment the door above 
 opened a little way and the setter puppy charged 
 out, fell most of the way downstairs and hurled him 
 self first upon Landes and then on the bowl of milk. 
 Tcherka, much annoyed, drew back, her ears flat, 
 her dainty pink tongue half out. The puppy gulped 
 and lapped and slobbered and wagged. A low 
 
 176
 
 JEANNE DE BRASSAC. 1 77 
 
 rumble came from Tcherka. Landes laughed quietly, 
 brought a fresh saucer of milk for her, and stood 
 guard over it until she had polished the china clean. 
 Then he opened the door which led into the garden, 
 and Tcherka walked out to stretch her claws on the 
 rose bushes, while the puppy rolled on the gravel 
 and dug important holes under the trees. 
 
 Joseph came in with a tray of fresh glass and silver 
 and, spreading a white damask cloth over the 
 Japanese table, proceeded to arrange the breakfast. 
 
 " Did you have any trouble in clearing the barri 
 cades ? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur Philip, an orderly came with a 
 pass early this morning, good for two weeks and to 
 be renewed when we desire it." 
 
 " What is the news ? " 
 
 " The elections are for to-morrow. There is talk 
 also of a sortie to Versailles." 
 
 " What for ? " said Philip, contemptuously. 
 
 "To catch Monsieur Thiers, parbleu ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! 
 
 " They say now is the time, before the troops 
 come back from Germany. They say he has n t got 
 much of an army now. Shall I light the coffee 
 machine? " 
 
 " Not yet," but while he spoke, looking up to the 
 landing above, the door opened and Jeanne de 
 Brassac stepped out. She leaned on the wooden 
 railing and looked down into the studio as Landes 
 sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Good-morning, Monsieur Landes ! May I come 
 down ? "
 
 1/8 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Indeed I beg you will! " he stammered, bowing 
 and walking to the foot of the stair. 
 
 One white hand held lightly to the balustrade, her 
 face was bent a little timidly, as she descended, 
 Philip watching her. He had not imagined she was 
 so beautiful. Her glorious hair was drawn back 
 from a pure white forehead low but full, and her eyes, 
 her violet eyes, which he remembered when she was 
 Victor s little sister, were filled with a light so sweet 
 and serene, that he turned his own eyes away, 
 troubled before so pure a gaze. 
 
 At the foot of the staircase she gave him her hand, 
 and he led her to an arm-chair before the fire, stand 
 ing beside her when she was seated. 
 
 " Are you rested, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Yes, and better, much better," she answered 
 quietly. "Are you, Monsieur Landes? You can 
 hardly be rested, after after all you did ! " The 
 open trust and admiration of her look and the soft- 
 falling inflection of her voice made the young man 
 flush up with embarrassment and pleasure. " And 
 you must have missed your room. I am so sorry to 
 disturb you." 
 
 " Pardon. I am thoroughly rested. And my room 
 is over there," pointing to a curtain which half con> 
 cealed a door in the rear of the studio. " The room 
 which you do me the honor to occupy has never been 
 used before since I came here. I feared it would be 
 hardly comfortable. So small and " 
 
 " It is perfect. And what a beautiful studio. I 
 was never in an artist s studio before. I should have 
 seen Victor s if he had lived to come home," she 
 added sadly.
 
 JEANNE DE BRASSAC. 1/9 
 
 " Breakfast is served, Monsieur Philip," said Jo 
 seph. Landes offered his arm to Mademoiselle de 
 Brassac and led her out into the glass-roofed exten 
 sion where the table stood. Sunshine sparkled among 
 the silverware, the china, and slender glass ; the cof 
 fee machine was steaming. Outside the window, on 
 top of an almond-tree, the blackbird was doing his 
 best at a solo, with a confident eye on Tcherka who 
 stalked him eagerly below. 
 
 " She will never catch him," said Landes. 
 
 " But she is very cruel all the same I must teach 
 her better." 
 
 " I fear that s a lesson she can t learn," laughed 
 Philip. 
 
 He dismissed Joseph and served his guest himself. 
 At first they were quiet and a little reserved, and ate 
 almost silently. After a while he said : 
 
 " When I last had the honor of breakfasting with 
 Mademoiselle de Brassac, she was a very young lady 
 indeed I think she wore pinafores," he added, 
 venturing on a jesting tone. It was taken up with 
 ready tact. 
 
 " No, she had discarded those at the last school 
 term. But I won t deny she had her hair in plaits. 
 And I know she thought her brother Victor s Ameri 
 can friend a very old gentleman indeed ! " 
 
 " But you played for him ! " 
 
 " You remember that ! Oh, I took great pains 
 for the American gentleman, I wanted to please 
 him, with my tiresome little music ! " 
 
 " Tiresome ! Not that, Mademoiselle ! And in 
 the evenings you sang Carcasonne - 
 
 " For my father ! " she added quickly ; her face fell.
 
 180 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 11 1 have always remembered that Christmas week," 
 said Landes, gently, " your parents and their kind 
 ness, Victor, who was my best friend, and and 
 you." 
 
 " Victor was always talking of you before you 
 came, and after your visit I often heard my parents 
 speaking of you in in the same way. As for me, 
 I could not have believed that you would remember 
 such a little convent girl. You seemed so very wise, 
 and oh ! so tall ! Dear me, how little I was then. Am 
 I not almost as tall as you are now, Monsieur 
 
 " Philip," he entreated. 
 
 " Monsieur Philip," she said, with a charming 
 smile, rising and moving lightly about the studio, 
 touching a sketch here, a bit of carving or porcelain 
 there, picking up and glancing at a sheet of music 
 which lay on the piano in one corner. Landes stood 
 and looked after her, uncertain what to say or do 
 next. What tone should he take? How should he 
 tell to her the things which she must hear how ask 
 her to tell him the things which it was necessary for 
 him to know if he was to be of service to her? He 
 was a man who dreaded stiffness and hated self-con 
 sciousness, but here was a situation which seemed 
 unavoidably full of both. Thus far the fine breed 
 ing and sweet tact of this young lady had placed 
 and kept them in the apparent relations of every 
 day host and hostess. But that could not last. As 
 he looked at her dainty head and self-possessed little 
 figure, good heavens ! how he dreaded to see the 
 first painful flush that should betray she felt the im 
 possible situation !
 
 JEANNE DE BRASS AC, l8l 
 
 She had been standing with her back to him, ab 
 sorbed it seemed in examining the black carved panels 
 of an old Breton armoire. Suddenly she turned and 
 came toward him ; he advanced to meet her. She 
 paused as they met beside an easel. Leaning one 
 hand upon it, with that pretty trick she had, she held 
 out the other hand with a gesture full of generous 
 emotion. 
 
 "Ah! How can I tell you what I feel! Can I 
 ever thank you enough ? " 
 
 "You thank me far more than I deserve you 
 make me happier than I ever ever " 
 
 " See how embarrassed you are ! " she cried, a 
 wonderful light in her sweet eyes. " All brave men 
 are so when one tries to praise them a little." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he interrupted, " if you will talk 
 of courage I must say to you that your bearing last 
 night was beyond belief." 
 
 " That was not courage." 
 
 " Was n t it ? It looked very like courage." 
 
 " No, it was contempt. When the door broke 
 down I thought it was Tribert come back as he had 
 threatened. Do you think I would let him see I 
 cared for anything he could do ? And when you 
 and the strange officer entered " 
 
 " On our heads," said Philip, and a laugh relieved 
 the tension of their feelings. 
 
 " We owe you many apologies for that per 
 formance," he continued, " but your composure 
 was wonderful. And afterward, your father would 
 have been proud of you on the retreat, Mademoi 
 selle."
 
 1 82 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Having turned the tables successfully he went on, 
 not giving her time to speak : 
 
 " And since it appears we are to serve together a 
 while longer, shall we hold a council of war now ? " 
 
 "Yes, if that is a council where you will tell me 
 what should be done, and I shall agree to everything 
 you advise," she smiled, taking the chair he set for 
 her with instant acquiescence, all her attention con 
 centrated on what he had to say. 
 
 Landes felt his excited nerves calmed and steadied, 
 and the dreaded interview began to look less alarm 
 ing. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the same day Philip sat 
 smoking on the rim of the fountain. Mademoiselle 
 de Brassac was in the studio resting among the 
 cushions of the divan, with Tcherka beside her. She 
 had promised not to stir until Philip gave her leave. 
 He sat and smoked and thought, and tried to arrange 
 things in his mind. 
 
 Summed up, this was the substance of what she 
 had told him. Returning from the death-bed of her 
 father, bewildered with grief and fright, she had shut 
 herself for the rest of the night in her apartments at 
 the Hotel Perret, and refused to see even her maid, 
 Marie. Next morning the woman, who was very 
 faithful, insisted on calling her mistress attention to 
 the diamonds. She was carrying them about with her 
 in a small black hand-bag, and she begged Mademoi 
 selle de Brassac to say what should be done with them. 
 " I could not say, I did not care," said the young 
 lady, looking pitifully at Philip, her lips trembling ; 
 " they had cost my father his life." Then came offi-
 
 JEANNE DE BRASS AC. 183 
 
 cers from the government, asking questions and giving 
 orders. " They acted so strangely," Jeanne contin 
 ued ; "they would not let my father be buried at 
 Chartres, they would not permit any of our friends 
 to be sent for. Marie begged them to put me under 
 the protection of an older lady. We have no rela 
 tions in Paris, but she mentioned one or two friends 
 of my mother s, and wanted to go to them for me. 
 She was always put off, sometimes with the pretext 
 that the lady she mentioned was not in Paris, some 
 times by a direct refusal, without any excuse. Marie 
 said if the government had committed the crime 
 themselves they could not have been more secret 
 about it. They hurried my father s funeral, and 
 took him away the evening after he died. Then 
 they came and said I must return next day to Char 
 tres. Marie got our things ready, and all the time 
 she kept talking about the diamonds, and how un 
 safe it was to carry them in that little hand-bag. 
 Once, teazed by her importunity, I said, why do 
 you not send them to the Bank of France as my 
 father intended to do? But she was very suspi 
 cious by nature, and the terrible event had made her 
 more so. No, she cried, Monsieur your father 
 was trying for three days to place them there and 
 he did not succeed. We will not let them go out of 
 our own hands ! As you like, I said, and went 
 on weeping for my father. 
 
 " Early next morning, I sent an orderly to you 
 at the Luxembourg. We were intending to leave 
 for Chartres that afternoon." " Why did you send 
 away the orderly ?" Philip had inquired; " why not
 
 1 84 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 have sent Marie ? " " Because I thought the orderly 
 would go and return much more quickly, and I felt 
 as if I could not spare Marie. I did not want to be 
 left quite alone. When he had been gone only a 
 short time, the maid began again about the dia 
 monds. I was weeping, and I would not listen. I 
 felt as if I hated them. Then at last she lost her 
 temper, my poor good Marie, and she said, very 
 well, Mademoiselle, it is easy to see that you care 
 neither for me nor for the diamonds, since you make 
 me carry them about in this dangerous way ! and 
 she shook the bag angrily. She walked out into the 
 hall while she was speaking, and came back instantly, 
 very pale, followed by the landlord Ferret. 
 
 " He said he had come to tell me that the orderly 
 had not returned, but another one had just been sent 
 in haste from the Luxembourg. Monsieur Landes 
 was dying of his wound, and begged to see me ; he 
 wished to speak to me of my father. There was no 
 time to lose Ferret said I must go at once. I told 
 him to send the orderly to me. He replied that the 
 man had hurried away immediately on delivering his 
 message. We felt that there was something wrong. 
 But what could we do ! Ah ! Monsieur Fhilip, what 
 could we two women do ? Besides, I could not think 
 seriously of anything but that you might die before 
 I could see and thank you. For I too had a message 
 from my father for you." 
 
 Tears filled her eyes as she looked down, sitting 
 still with her hands folded in her lap until she was 
 able to control the trembling of her lips once more. 
 Then she went on : " Ferret hurried off to fetch a
 
 JEANNE DE BRASSAC. 185 
 
 carriage. Marie watched him down the hall until 
 the door closed behind him. Then she turned to me 
 in great excitement. He was standing in the door 
 of the anteroom, no one knows how long. He heard 
 what I said, she murmured ; now we must find 
 another place for the diamonds. Then I became 
 excited too. I did not choose that they should be 
 taken from me without my consent. We looked 
 here and there always in great haste, expecting the 
 return of Ferret. There was no hiding-place any 
 where each one proposed seemed more unsafe than 
 the other. Marie ran to the hall door. I heard Per- 
 ret coming up the stairs outside. Hurry, hurry, 
 Mademoiselle ! she whispered. There was an old 
 pistol which my father had bought of an antiquary 
 to take back to the gun-room at Chartres as a curi 
 osity. It hung on the wall beside his dressing-table. 
 I poured the diamonds into the long barrel, stuffed 
 in a wad of paper, and hung it back on the wall. 
 Monsieur Ferret knocked, Marie opened the door 
 and said, Was the carriage there ? if so we were 
 ready. They will be safe until we return, she whis 
 pered to me, as we followed Ferret down the stairs. 
 He had locked the door carefully and given the key 
 to Marie who dropped it into the little hand-bag 
 as we stood in the court. I saw him look at the bag 
 and then at her. I wanted to go back, I felt I 
 knew there was something wrong. But it was too 
 late. Ferret held the carriage door (it was a closed 
 carriage which Ferret owned and drove himself) 
 he helped us in and mounted the box. As we turned 
 out of the Place Pigalle a regiment of hussars entered
 
 1 86 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 the square. Marie suddenly pulled my dress, leaned 
 forward, and whispered ; that is no place to leave 
 the diamonds, it is the first place any thief would 
 search. I must go back and get them. No, no ! 
 I said, you shall not, Marie ! But she was a great 
 deal older than I, she had been my mother s maid 
 she only obeyed me when she chose, she thought 
 she always knew best. I command you, Marie! 
 I cried. Then, you would not leave me alone ! 
 Only one moment, dear Mademoiselle, she whis 
 pered ; there is no danger, the hussars are standing 
 by the fountain. You are perfectly safe if I make 
 him stop here ! And without listening to me any 
 more she spoke to Ferret and ordered him to stop. 
 She explained that she must return for Mademoi 
 selle s smelling-salts, they had been forgotten, and 
 Mademoiselle was faint ; and opening the door she 
 almost flew back across the square. I saw her enter 
 the house poor Marie ! and we stood waiting a 
 little while, then Ferret started the horses. That 
 frightened me till I saw he seemed intending to turn 
 around. He crossed very slowly to the other side 
 of the street and stopped. From there the hussars 
 at the fountain in the Place Pigalle were out of sight. 
 We were very near a corner. All at once Ferret 
 lashed the horses and they sprang forward, turned 
 the corner sharply and wheeled into a court. It was 
 a court surrounded by warehouses I had my hand 
 on the door, and I called out. Two men in the uni 
 form of the National Guard sprang at me, forced me 
 back, entered the carriage, tied and gagged me. 
 Ferret stood at the window and looked in smiling.
 
 JEANNE DE BRAS SAC. l8/ 
 
 They pulled down the blinds, someone on the 
 box whipped up the horses, and they took me to 
 the Impasse de la Mort. I was kept there locked 
 in one room all that day and the next until you 
 came." 
 
 " Whom did you see during that time ? " asked 
 Philip. 
 
 " Tribert, always Tribert. He wanted to make me 
 tell where the diamonds were. He said they had 
 killed my father and my maid for them, and they 
 would kill me too unless I confessed where the dia 
 monds were." 
 
 " I ought to have killed him," muttered Philip to 
 himself, as he thought it over. 
 
 " And the other prisoners," he had asked, " Cap 
 tain de Carette and the lady 
 
 " I did not see them at all. Tribert said, when he 
 was trying to frighten me, that they had caught two 
 more aristocrats, and meant to serve them as they 
 would me. He did not tell me their names, and I 
 saw them last night for the first time." 
 
 Then Landes had explained who de Carette was, 
 who Ellice was, and how he himself stood in relation 
 to Raoul Rigault. Finally came the dreaded an 
 nouncement that they were shut in between two 
 barricades, and no course was possible to them but 
 to remain hidden where they were for the present. 
 To his unspeakable relief she had received this news 
 very quietly. She could hardly have been paler than 
 she was already, but he thought she looked a little 
 more wan than before, as she listened, and her soft 
 eyes were almost black as she lifted them confid-
 
 1 88 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 ingly to his. But of personal embarrassment, of 
 disagreeable self-consciousness, there was not a 
 trace, and Landes decided, as he thought it over, 
 that this child was the most dignified woman he 
 had ever met. 
 
 He was still musing an hour later, when Mademoi 
 selle de Brassac appeared in the doorway. " May I 
 come out into the garden, Monsieur ? " she asked, 
 smiling brightly. 
 
 Landes hastened to her. " Are you rested, Ma 
 demoiselle? " 
 
 " Quite rested." 
 
 "And you are feeling well?" 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " Then will you walk a little?" 
 
 Long warm bars of sunlight lay across the gravel 
 as they stepped into the garden. Tcherka and the 
 puppy followed and made straight for the almond 
 tree, but the blackbird knew he was safe and ruffled 
 his plumes in derision. 
 
 The puppy remembered that the fountain was in 
 habited by live creatures which had thus far baffled 
 investigation, and he poked his nose over the stone 
 edge, cocking his ears and whining. The two gold 
 fish stared at him in frigid unconcern and sank 
 slowly to the bottom. Their blase indifference was 
 more than he could bear, and he raced around the 
 basin with hysterical yelps, but a small black beetle 
 hurrying along on some pressing business engaged 
 his attention and he followed that with enthusiasm 
 until it ran into a crack in the wall. Tcherka sat 
 down in the sunshine and blinked amicably at the
 
 JEANNE DE BRASS AC. 189 
 
 blackbird, who now, as a precaution, stood on the 
 extreme tip of the almond tree, preening and prun 
 ing and uttering single liquid notes. 
 
 The street outside was very silent. At intervals 
 the challenge of a sentry came to them faintly from 
 the direction of the rue Vavin, but the rue Notre 
 Dame was quiet and the stillness was only broken 
 by the patter of the puppy over the gravel, and the 
 blackbird s solitary note. 
 
 " Are you chilly, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Oh no, it is warm here in the sunshine. Look 
 at the puppy." 
 
 " What do you call him?" 
 
 " He has never been named. Name him, Mon 
 sieur Philip. 
 
 " I name him? " 
 
 " Yes, an English name." 
 
 " Do you speak English? " 
 
 " A little. I had an English governess." 
 
 " Then if I speak to you in English will you an- 
 swer ? " 
 
 " No not now perhaps some day. Please name 
 the puppy." 
 
 " A romantic name? " 
 
 "Oh no." 
 
 " Commonplace ? " 
 
 " I shall not give you any help." 
 
 " What do you think of Rover? " 
 
 " Really," she said disdainfully, " all the English 
 dogs I ever heard of were named Rover." 
 
 "Sport?" 
 
 " Except Sport and Dash. Now think ! "
 
 190 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " We might call him Mr. Smith that is not ro 
 mantic." 
 
 "All the people in England are named Smith." 
 
 " But all the dogs are not." 
 
 " What a shame to make fun of me. Name him 
 at once, Monsieur." 
 
 "Well then Toodles." 
 
 " That is not very pretty, but it will do," she said 
 seriously. " How do you pronounce it? Too-dell?" 
 
 " Toodles." 
 
 " Toodles." 
 
 " That is what I say, Too-dells. Vien ici, mon 
 petit Too-dells. Ah ! qu il est laid ce nom ! mon 
 pauvre petit Too-dells ! And did you put those 
 goldfish in the fountain ? " 
 
 " Yes, they are very stupid." 
 
 " Monsieur, do you think intelligence necessary in 
 goldfish? I begin to be afraid of you. I am not 
 very intelligent either. But," she continued with a 
 quick change in her manner, " one need not be very 
 intelligent to see that you are troubled, even when 
 you laugh. Is there anything new? " 
 
 "Yes. I sent Joseph to the rue de Sfax; he re 
 turned a little while ago. The house where Jack 
 Ellice lived was sacked last night." 
 
 " Oh ! What will become of them ? " 
 
 " I d give anything to know they are safe. De 
 Carette was in no condition to stand more rough 
 usage. And Ellice he is brave, if you like, Ma 
 demoiselle. He risked his life last night from pure 
 chivalry and pure friendship."
 
 JEANNE DE BRASSAC. IQI 
 
 " And the lady," said Mademoiselle de Brassac, 
 "oh, if they only were all here ! " 
 
 " Well," sighed Philip, shaking off his depression, 
 " we must only wait and hope for them as well as for 
 ourselves. There are still one or two questions which 
 I should like to ask you if I may " 
 
 " Certainly, Monsieur Philip." 
 
 " Where are the settings to the diamonds, for I 
 take it that your father removed the stones for con 
 venience sake." 
 
 " They are at home in Chartres. They are very 
 old-fashioned; I think they are safe, for no one would 
 want them." 
 
 " You told me this morning, that Monsieur de St. 
 Gildas, your only near relative and your guardian, is 
 still in Germany ? " 
 
 " He was a week ago, a prisoner, and ill 
 
 " But I could write to Monsieur de St. Gildas at 
 Chartres, on the chance of getting a letter through 
 by paid messenger." 
 
 " Yes, my cousin is in Chartres, waiting for the 
 return of her husband." 
 
 " One thing more. Your trunks are in the Place 
 Pigalle. Will you make out a list for Joseph, who 
 will go to some shop and bring you what you 
 need." 
 
 " You are very thoughtful, Monsieur. I think he 
 had better order for me the clothes of a working girl. 
 Anything better would attract suspicion to him buy 
 ing them." 
 
 Very true. You will forgive me if I seem offi 
 cious, Mademoiselle ? "
 
 IQ2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 She looked at him in amazement, and then clasped 
 her hands in the earnestness of her protest. 
 
 " Would I forgive my only friend, would I forgive 
 my brother for taking care of me? " 
 
 " My little sister Jeanne," said Landes, deeply 
 moved.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN A GARDEN. 
 
 THE elections were over, the farce finished. 
 Out of 435,000 electors only 60,000 went 
 out into the streets to vote at the polls. 
 Everywhere bayonets, cannon, and mitrailleuses 
 stared the people in the face ; everywhere the bat 
 talions of the Commune were in motion and the 
 ghastly Hussars of Death galloped through the 
 trembling city with hoarse cries of menace or of 
 triumph. 
 
 In the midst of a tumult of drums and bugles, 
 salvos of artillery and Communistic cheers, the last 
 vote was cast into the urns, and the Hussars of Death 
 closed in around the polls. The result was a fore 
 gone conclusion. Ninety-four members of the Com 
 mune were elected, each ward naming members 
 according to its population. Almost without excep 
 tion all the present members of the Commune were 
 re-elected. 
 
 The miserable city shuddered. 
 
 Next day Landes, sitting in his garden with his 
 sketching easel before him, heard a loud ringing at 
 the outer gate, and presently Joseph came through 
 the ivy-covered alley followed by an officer of the
 
 IQ4 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Commune in full uniform. It was Wilton, and Lan- 
 des rose hastily to meet him. 
 
 " Philip," he said, refusing with a gesture the prof 
 fered seat, " I only came to tell you to look out. 
 My battalion is ordered to the Fort of Issy to-night 
 and a new battalion will replace us here at the barri 
 cade in your street. I don t know who is in com 
 mand or what the battalion is, but it will be more 
 necessary than ever for you to remain here out of 
 sight because domiciliary visits have begun and 
 Raoul Rigault is filling the prisons." 
 
 " I hear from Joseph that he has been confirmed 
 as Chief of Police and Procureur-Genral of the 
 Commune. Is it so, Wilton?" 
 
 " Oh yes. General Duval insisted. He s installed 
 in the Prefecture of Police with a gang of his crea 
 tures who have nothing to learn in ferocity from 
 Modoc Indians. It s a shame. Ferre" and Henri 
 Verlet are his fellow Public Accusers, Vermersch, 
 Humbert, and Villiaume are his familiars. Sarre and 
 Weser do his dirty work along with that miserable 
 creature, Pilotell." 
 
 " Pilotell, the caricaturist ? " 
 
 "Yes. You know him, without talent, cowardly 
 and dissipated. He arrested Monsieur Polo, editor 
 of the Eclipse yesterday, and Rigault says he will 
 have him shot. As far as I can make out, Monsieur 
 Polo s crime consists in not having accepted Pilotell s 
 tenth rate caricatures for his paper. Pilotell boasts 
 that he found three thousand francs on Monsieur 
 Polo which he kept for the Commune. Bah ! I am 
 getting sick of this Commune! "
 
 IN A GARDEN. 1 95 
 
 Landes drew him into a seat and spoke earnestly. 
 " Give it up Archie, resign and leave the city. You 
 can t be mixed up with such a crowd of ruffians as 
 this! Is it too late to get out?" 
 
 "Yes, old chap, I should be shot. I am going out 
 of the city anyway, where I hope we will have some 
 fighting. The Versailles people are threatening the 
 village and Fort of Issy, and, if I m not mistaken, 
 the music will begin there. I should n t want to 
 miss the fighting, but I m sick of the Commune as it 
 is here in Paris." 
 
 He walked the length of the garden once or 
 twice, his head sunk on his breast, his gloved hands 
 clasped nervously behind him. Philip watched him 
 in silence. 
 
 " How is Mademoiselle de Brassac?" said Wilton, 
 abruptly, coming up beside the easel and glancing at 
 the sketch. 
 
 "Well," replied Philip, "! must try to find a 
 way to get her to Chartres." 
 
 "You had better stay here quietly for a while," 
 said Wilton. " Is she very impatient to go?" 
 
 " No, she is very patient and reasonable, but of 
 course I know how she feels. It s no kind of a posi 
 tion for a young girl to be in, cooped up alone with 
 a man 
 
 " It might have been worse," said Wilton, gravely ; 
 "she can thank her lucky stars that you are here. 
 Is that a sketch of Mademoiselle de Brassac?" 
 
 " Yes," said Philip, glancing critically at his canvas ; 
 "she was good enough to pose for me on the edge 
 of the fountain there. She went in about half an
 
 196 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 hour ago to do some sewing. What do you think of 
 the sketch, Archie?" 
 
 " Well, as an officer I should say it is first rate. 
 Remember I have lost my right to criticise you as a 
 brother artist." 
 
 " Nonsense ! I think that the color is very decent, 
 but it does n t compose as well as it might." 
 
 " It will when you have worked more on the 
 figure. Why don t you put that cat in ?" Landes 
 turned. Tcherka sat staring at them from behind a 
 lilac bush. 
 
 " Perhaps I will," said Landes, smiling, " only don t 
 you think her color would rather knock out the 
 scheme?" 
 
 " Oh, I don t know, you were always a better col- 
 orist than I was. I don t know much about color 
 except in uniforms. How do you like mine?" 
 
 "You asked me that before," laughed Philip. " I 
 like it, but I must say I don t care for the dark 
 breeches with that orange-red stripe. The red 
 breeches of the Line are much handsomer I think. 
 The soldiers of the Commune are gotten up rather 
 regardless though." 
 
 " Oh," laughed Wilton, " you should see the Polish 
 cavalry and the Hussars of Death. Well, I m going. 
 Good-bye, old chap." 
 
 He held out his hand and Landes grasped it. 
 " Good-bye, Archie, I hope you will come out of 
 this all right. Don t be rash. Imprudence is n t 
 bravery." 
 
 " I might say the same to you, old fellow," said 
 Wilton ; " good-bye, and if you should see Ynes "
 
 IN A GARDEN. 197 
 
 " I 11 know what to say," replied Landes. " Take 
 care of yourself." 
 
 So Archie Wilton of New York City, twenty-one 
 years of age, went away to command a mob of fanat 
 ics as dangerous to each other and to their officers as 
 to the enemy ; and Landes sat down to resume his 
 sketch. 
 
 As yet he had scarcely covered the canvas, but the 
 effect was charming. On the edge of the low, circu 
 lar stone basin Jeanne de Brassac was seated, one 
 slender hand resting on the gray stone, the other 
 dipping idly in the water. The background, almost 
 conventionalized, was formed by the white wall of 
 the garden flecked with shadows from the budding 
 lilac bushes. The sketch was redolent of spring-time. 
 Away up in one corner a strip of sky, robin s-egg- 
 blue, peeped between the almond-tree branches, the 
 warm spring sunlight fell, dappling and spotting the 
 path in the foreground. 
 
 The figure of Jeanne de Brassac, beautifully drawn 
 but not yet modelled, was the incarnation of youth 
 and spring-time. Her bright curly hair was blown 
 across her cheeks, and her eyes, her beautiful violet 
 eyes, were raised with a half-veiled smile which made 
 Philip s breath come in catches when he looked at 
 them. 
 
 " It s devilish good, by Jove! " he muttered to 
 himself ; " it will compose all right if I light up the 
 path and swing it about a bit. But we won t drag 
 in the yellow cat," he added, laughing to himself. 
 
 Tcherka, who had been sharpening her delicate 
 claws on the almond trees, came up to be caressed,
 
 198 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 and got a dab of crimson on the end of her tail from 
 Philip s palette. 
 
 " What a nuisance you are," laughed Landes, 
 "keep your confounded tail out of my paints." 
 
 Tcherka started to lie 1 : the color off, but Philip 
 seized her with one hand and, picking up a rag, dipped 
 it in the turpentine and attempted to remove the 
 crimson lake. To his horror the turpentine spread 
 the color half-way up the cat s tail, dyeing the fur a 
 brilliant crimson, and then, the turpentine reaching 
 the skin, the cat sprang out of his arms with an in 
 dignant squall and flew to the top of the wall, where 
 she made enormous eyes at him and switched her 
 gaudy tail in fury. 
 
 " What a shame ! Is that how you amuse your 
 self when I am away, Monsieur ? " said a clear, ban 
 tering voice behind him, and Jeanne de Brassac 
 stepped to his side and pointed tragically at Tcherka s 
 brilliant tail. 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Landes, rising from his 
 easel, " but she insisted on assuming the colors of 
 the Commune. It will wear off in time. I thought 
 you were going to sew ? 
 
 " I have been sewing, and I am tired of it. I came 
 to see what mischief you were engaged in." 
 
 " You are too late the cat is a hopeless rebel. 
 Heaven save her from Monsieur Thiers ! " 
 
 Jeanne looked up at Tcherka with a sigh. " My 
 poor little Tcherka, my poor abused little pussy," 
 she said, " come down this minute and see your 
 mistress ! " 
 
 But Tcherka turned a deaf ear to all persuasion
 
 IN A GARDEN. 199 
 
 and presently marched away to a sunny angle on the 
 broad wall where she could survey the garden and 
 keep an eye on the blackbird. 
 
 Jeanne turned and looked at the sketch on the 
 easel. 
 
 " Do you approve ? " asked Philip. 
 
 " Very much," she replied warmly. 
 
 " Then perhaps you will give me another sit 
 ting? " 
 
 " When, now ? " 
 
 "If you will." 
 
 She went over to the fountain and sat down on 
 the edge, looking at him over her shoulder with a 
 faint smile. "As many as you wish, Monsieur," she 
 said. 
 
 " Then I may begin other pictures of you ? " 
 
 " If you care to." 
 
 " Indeed I do ! " he cried enthusiastically. 
 
 " Is this the right position ? " 
 
 " Yes, the head was a little more this way, now 
 there that is just right. Are you comfortable?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 Then he began to paint, chatting with her and 
 leaning back occasionally to get a glimpse of the 
 ensemble. 
 
 She watched him curiously when he stopped to 
 reset his palette, and followed with her eyes each 
 curling string of color as it coiled up in its place on 
 the porcelain. First came a big blot of silver white, 
 then in the order of the rainbow, red, orange, yellow, 
 green, blue, indigo, and violet, in tints and shades of 
 wonderful beauty.
 
 2OO THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 He placed the colors on the canvas with a single, 
 quick, almost nervous touch, and she noticed that 
 he did very little mixing on his palette, but painted 
 in almost pure color, producing the tone he wanted 
 by laying over the fresh color other colors as pure 
 and unmixed. 
 
 He chatted along all the time, and, noticing that 
 she was interested in the mechanical part of the 
 process, explained to her how it was that he had 
 chosen to paint in a manner which would have 
 brought tears of despair to an Academician s eyes. 
 
 " It s the sunlight that I am so in love with, the 
 sunlight playing on soft human flesh. You can t 
 get that by the dark muddy colors of the studio ; 
 you need all the hues and colors of the rainbow to 
 form a light which is white and brilliant enough. In 
 the open air shadows are not black, they are trans 
 parent and gray, tinged with the colors of the sky 
 and the surrounding objects. In the studio every 
 thing is dull and subdued and pitched in a calm, 
 quiet key. In the open air, especially on a sunny 
 day, the key of nature is pitched very high, and, with 
 all the resources of the most brilliant palettes, we 
 can only parody the Bmpid light of the sky and the 
 depth of the sunshine. I do not paint as I learned 
 to paint in the schools," he said, smiling, " and many 
 people think I am crazy on color." 
 
 " I do not," replied Jeanne de Brassac, with a 
 quick, sympathetic smile ; " I think I understand 
 your work perfectly. To me your color is wonder 
 fully true and beautiful." 
 
 He glanced up delighted and somewhat astonished.
 
 IN A GARDEN. 2OI 
 
 "Tell me more about it," she said. 
 
 The light was still good but waning when Toodles 
 fell into the fountain. He had been having one of 
 his daily interviews with the goldfish. He tried to 
 smell them and got water up his nose. They looked 
 at him fixedly, and slowly sank to the bottom. He 
 found their manner of doing this even more insulting 
 than usual, and, barking wildly, stumbled over the 
 edge and in. After he had been dragged out by 
 Philip and gently slapped by his mistress, he tried 
 to shake himself over the painter and his canvas. 
 Foiled at that he had joyously rolled himself on the 
 gravel-walk, grinding the dirt and sticks into his 
 coat, and had then been picked up by the neck and 
 soused again in the fountain. 
 
 " Come," said Philip, taking Toodles in one hand 
 and his easel in the other, " the sun is too low for 
 any more work. Shall we go in ? " 
 
 Laughing at the drenched puppy dangling limp 
 from Philip s hand, they ran up the steps into the 
 studio. 
 
 " You are a very bad dog, and will probably die 
 of cold," said Jeanne, kissing him and planting him 
 before the fire, where he at once flopped over and 
 rolled his eyes. 
 
 Tcherka marched in presently and sat with her 
 illuminated tail tucked under her flank. Joseph 
 came and lighted the lamp, went out again, and, by 
 the time he returned with the dinner, the early 
 March twilight had deepened to a still black starless 
 night. 
 
 " Is there anything more I can do for Mademoi-
 
 2O2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 selle?" asked Joseph, when the table was cleared 
 and he stood at the door waiting to say good-night. 
 
 " Nothing, thank you, Joseph," she replied. 
 
 " Monsieur Philip? " 
 
 " No ; is there any news ? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur. I renewed my pass for the bar 
 ricade." 
 
 " Very well that is all." 
 
 " Alors, bon soir, Mademoiselle de Brassac, bon 
 soir, Monsieur Philip, et bien le bon soir," smiled 
 Joseph, shuffling amiably out of the door. 
 
 " Good-night, Joseph," they called out together. 
 
 When Joseph s steps had died away down the 
 alley the quiet seemed even more perfect than 
 usual ; neither felt like speaking. Presently Jeanne 
 rose and walked to the great window overlooking 
 the garden, pressing her face against the pane. 
 Philip raised his head from his book and watched 
 her. The fire burned dimly and he stooped to lift 
 a stick across the andirons. A shower of crackling 
 sparks whirled up the chimney, and presently the 
 new log caught fire and blazed up in a sheet of yel 
 low flame, which set the shadows trembling on wall 
 and ceiling. Philip lay back in his chair, closed his 
 book, and stared at the snapping sparks. He was 
 thinking of Jeanne. What a fate had been hers! 
 What had fate in store for her? Would he ever 
 have a chance to cross the river and look for her 
 diamonds in their naive hiding-place ? What a place 
 to put them ! like a child playing Hide the Hand 
 kerchief ! She was a child almost. If the pistol 
 had been examined and the contents removed, as
 
 IN A GARDEN. 203 
 
 was almost certain, then Jeanne de Brassac was nearly 
 penniless. She would have to sell her home in Char- 
 tres and live somewhere very modestly. Those old 
 chateaux brought little money when sold in 1871. 
 Few people cared to buy or could afford to buy so 
 soon after the war. 
 
 He thought of his own snug little income, and 
 flushed to realize how useless it must be to her. He 
 remembered bitterly the money he had wasted, 
 money which saved would have bought the Chateau 
 de Brassac at a fair price. And then ! He knew that 
 she could not have accepted it from him in any case. 
 He looked wistfully at her, standing silent with her 
 face against the black window. How slim and young 
 she seemed, how childlike her small head and the 
 soft curve of her cheek. 
 
 Her hands, loosely clasped behind her, gleamed 
 white as marble in the dusk of the extension. He 
 thought of the slender child s hand as it lay on her 
 mother s shoulder that Christmas Eve so long ago. 
 Then he thought of Victor, with his lovable nature 
 and splendid talents, his fair hair and dark eyes, his 
 pride and triumph as he cried, " Philip, I have won 
 the Prix de Rome ! " 
 
 He turned to the fire with an impatient movement. 
 "It s only useless fools like me that live forever!" 
 he said to himself. A lonely, desolate feeling had 
 been slowly taking possession of him ; blue devils 
 settled down in swarms, and he did not resist. 
 
 " What have I done that is any good ? " he mused. 
 " How do I know that I have any talent ? I can 
 paint but my ideas of color may be all wrong.
 
 204 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 How do I know that I m not making a fool of 
 myself with my theory of light impinging on shadow 
 and my vibrating color fad ? And what sort of a 
 man am I? I have no religion, no faith, no morals 
 if I live decently, it s fastidiousness, not principle. 
 And who is there in the world to care if I die ? If I 
 had a family but I have n t. Ellice would care. 
 I d give all I m worth to know what has become of 
 Ellice? Yes, he d care. But he d be playing bil 
 liards the next week. Faustine would care I don t 
 want to think of Faustine. Archie Wilton would be 
 sorry, ten minutes, and Alain de Carette would 
 remember me all his life if he is n t lying some 
 where with a sabre bayonet in him. What am I 
 snivelling and pitying myself about anyway? I ve 
 got all I deserve." He shook himself and stood up 
 with decision. 
 
 " Jeanne," he called, " is n t it a bit cold over there 
 in the dark?" She turned toward him, her face 
 flushed, her eyes like violet stars. Then she came 
 and sat down in the arm-chair before the blaze. 
 
 " Don t be unhappy, Jeanne," he said almost 
 timidly. 
 
 " I, unhappy ? " she asked ; " why, I have been 
 thinking how happy I am. I was thinking that I 
 love the studio, Philip." 
 
 He was so completely taken by surprise that he 
 sat gazing at her until she laughed out. It was a 
 sweet, innocent, childlike laugh, that chased all the 
 gloom from his heart. His eyes cleared. 
 
 " And you were not standing alone over there 
 feeling terribly downcast ? "
 
 IN A GARDEN. 
 
 " I was trying to realize that it is less than a fort 
 night since I came here, I feel as if I had known it 
 all my life. Oh, do you ask me if I am unhappy 
 here ? I was taken by force to a dreadful place, 
 insulted, threatened by brutal men, in expectation 
 of death ; then you come and bring me here. It was 
 like heaven when I first came, after those terrible 
 days, now it is like home." 
 
 Landes could not answer. He had never imagined 
 anything so delightful as this. 
 
 "There was one thing," she went on, "that I 
 thought about which was less pleasant." 
 
 "And that?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 " That was the certainty that you must be bored, 
 shut up so long here with no one to talk to but a 
 girl." 
 
 " I have never been so happy in my life." 
 
 " Very well I believe you for the present. But 
 you will be bored very soon if you are not amused. 
 I shall play to you, Monsieur," she announced, rising 
 and going to the piano. 
 
 After all she sat so long looking at the keys with 
 out touching them that Philip was on the point of 
 speaking when she began to prelude, and then, with 
 a glance over her shoulder, she played the song of 
 the blackbird. Playing by ear seemed a miracle to 
 Landes, and he was very much astonished at what 
 was really a very simple performance. 
 
 Our bird," she said, with a little laugh. " What 
 else shall I play, Philip? " 
 
 " Play as you have been playing," he said in a low 
 voice.
 
 2C6 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Her eyes questioned his an instant. " I under 
 stand," she murmured. 
 
 Under her touch the chords began to swell and 
 sway like the waves of a tossing ocean. He heard 
 the surf curling among the rocks, he heard the wind 
 blowing over leagues of moorland, and then, as the 
 wind died away, some strange sea-bird uttered a note, 
 wild and monotonous. 
 
 He heard rain falling on a vast grassy plain, drip 
 ping ceaselessly into the soft earth, or splashing on 
 the bosom of shallow lakes. He heard a brook, 
 hidden at first in subterranean depths, tinkling 
 among rocks, welling up from the earth through 
 bubbling spring pools, chattering away over pebbly 
 reaches toward an ocean whose dull roar came from 
 a distance. 
 
 Then a lark carolled faintly among the parting 
 clouds, the sun flashed out in splendor, and the 
 grasses were humming with insect life. Far afield 
 crickets were chirping, all the small creatures of the 
 meadows droned a rhythmic chorus until the wind 
 died away and the stillness of the midday heat was 
 only broken by the prattle of the brook. 
 
 It was the overture to " Sylvia Elven," the new 
 opera. 
 
 Suddenly it seemed as though a forest full of birds 
 were singing, and then, rising clear and sweet above 
 the trills of the feathered choir, came the first won 
 derful notes of Sylvia s aria. 
 
 Jeanne was singing the " Hawthorn Song." 
 
 " Flower of the heath, 
 Sway and bend ; I weave my wreath,
 
 IN A GARDEN. 2O/ 
 
 Blossom of thyme, 
 Life is love ; I wreathe my rhyme. 
 
 Flower of the thorn, 
 Life is love and love is born. 
 
 Blossom of moss, 
 Sorrow is dead. I drop my cross. 
 
 Flower of heather, 
 Death and I have talked together. 
 
 Blossom of weed, 
 Death has fled on his snow-white steed. 
 
 Flower of the May, 
 Love and I have said him nay. 
 
 Blossom of rue, 
 Shadow of fear no more I knew. 
 
 Flower of heath, 
 Sway and bend, I weave my wreath." 
 
 Then her mood changed. He heard the soft clash 
 of Moorish cymbals, the swaying cadence of young 
 voices, the hollow rumble of the Nautch drum. A 
 reed pipe took up the melody, which soared away 
 among palms, by rivers hurrying through whispering 
 rushes. Imperceptibly the notes of the pipes grew 
 softer, and now it was a Breton herdsman blowing a 
 quaint mimicry of a chceur de chasse. Then the 
 hunting horns rang out, the branches snapped and 
 cracked under the heavy rush of a boar, and, as the 
 chase passed, pack in full cry and horns clanging the 
 "game afoot," the chimes from a hidden chapel 
 came quavering on the October wind, lingering, 
 ringing faintly long after silence had fallen in the 
 forest. 
 
 She came quietly from the piano and he raised 
 his head. For a while they looked at each other;
 
 208 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 then Tcherka arched her back and yawned, and the 
 puppy gurgled and thumped the floor with his tail. 
 
 " It s a sleepy time," said Jeanne, with a timid 
 smile. 
 
 He rose and she held out her fair hand. Silently, 
 bending low before her, he touched her ringers with 
 his lips. 
 
 And as they stood, smiling, lingering, strangely 
 moved, from the distant street came the booming of 
 drums and the trampling of a multitude. 
 
 Then the bugles pealed the " alert," the drums 
 rolled like distant thunder, and a thousand deep 
 voices rose in one long wavering cheer, " Vive la 
 Commune ! " 
 
 It was the new battalion replacing the old at the 
 barricades in the rue Notre Dame.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE COMMUNE MOVES. 
 
 ON the morning of the twenty-second of March, 
 the day fixed for the elections in Paris, a 
 large square placard printed in bold type 
 appeared on every wall in the city. This was its 
 tenor. 
 
 TO THE ELECTORS OF PARIS. 
 
 WHEREAS : the convocation of the electors is an act 
 of National sovereignty. 
 
 WHEREAS : the exercise of that sovereignty belongs only 
 to the powers emanating from universal suffrage. 
 
 IT FOLLOWS : that the Committee now installed in the 
 Hotel de Ville has neither right nor power for such con 
 vocation. 
 
 THEREFORE, the representatives of the undersigned 
 journals consider the convocation placarded for the 22d of 
 March null and void, and counsel their readers to pay it 
 no atttention. 
 
 Present and approving : 
 
 Journal des Debats. Constitutionnel. 
 
 Elector Libre. Petite Presse. 
 
 Verite. Figaro. 
 
 Gaulois. Paris-Journal. 
 
 Petit National. Petit Moniteur. 
 
 Siecle. Presse. 
 
 Temps. Soir. 
 
 France. Liberte. 
 
 Pays. National. 
 
 Univers. Cloche. 
 
 Patrie. Franjais. 
 
 Bien Public. Union. 
 
 Opinion Nationale. Journal des Villes et 
 
 Journal de Paris. Compagnes. 
 
 France Nouvelle. Moniteur Universel. 
 
 Monde. Gazette de France. 
 
 20Q
 
 210 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Around each placard excited groups gathered, occa 
 sionally broken up and dispersed by platoons of the 
 National Guard, but only to collect again and dis 
 cuss the placard in words and gestures which every 
 moment grew more violent. When, at times, the 
 placards were torn down and the crowd retreated 
 from the glittering bayonets, before the tumult fairly 
 subsided, other placards would mysteriously appear 
 in the place of those destroyed. 
 
 This splendid protest of the Paris press fell like a 
 bombshell among the members of the Central Com 
 mittee and their adherents who occupied the Hotel 
 de Ville. It was the first time in twenty years that 
 the press of Paris, emasculated and corrupted under 
 the Empire, had raised its united voice in support of 
 a principle. The effect of the protest was instant 
 and decisive. The Commune was profoundly stirred, 
 and the " party of order," which had kept very quiet 
 since its timid leader had fled to Versailles, now saw 
 that it had in the city an ally and a bulwark the 
 loyal press. Groups formed in the streets, meetings 
 were held in the open air, loyal battalions offered 
 their services, and everywhere in the centre of Paris 
 the people of the best quarters united their voices 
 with the dignified protest of the press. 
 
 Most of the mairies were occupied. by moderate 
 republicans, and these gentlemen made it known 
 that they would not abdicate in the presence of the 
 rebellion, neither would they lend their aid to nor 
 countenance any election fixed for the 22d of March. 
 Three wards of the city even had the courage to 
 hoist the tricolor ; they were the wards of Saint
 
 THE COMMUNE MOVES. 211 
 
 Germain 1 Auxerrois, rue de la Banque, and the rue 
 Druot. These three quarters are situated in the very 
 heart of all that is elegant and learned and fashion 
 able in Paris, and their action troubled the insurgents 
 of the Hotel de Ville. 
 
 These events were known in Versailles almost as 
 soon as in Paris, for communication between the 
 Capitol and the city in which the National Assembly 
 was sitting had not been entirely cut off. Fugitives 
 from Paris brought the news of the sudden change 
 in the political situation. The Assembly, during its 
 first sitting, remembering perhaps the number of 
 faults it had committed in the past, voted without 
 hesitation to give Paris the right to elect a municipal 
 government for herself. At one time even, urged by 
 several notabilities of the Left, such as Victor Schoel- 
 cher and Louis Blanc, they almost believed that they 
 could arrive at an understanding with the Hotel de 
 Ville. Negotiations were opened and envoys sent 
 from Versailles. MM. Tirard, Cle men^eau, and others, 
 mayors and deputies at the same time, were active 
 in trying to effect a reconciliation, but from the very 
 first it was plain that the Commune was not in earn 
 est. The insurgents would listen to nothing reason 
 able, and they refused on any terms to quit their 
 places. Thiers was very patient with them, but it 
 was the patience of an old fox with a farmer who has 
 him fast by the leg. Give the fox time and he can 
 t^ist around and bite. Thiers wanted time. To 
 crush the insurrection, as it now appeared in all its 
 appalling proportions, he needed 50,000 troops. On 
 the 2oth of March he had only a third of that num-
 
 212 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 her, but every day thousands of troops were arriving 
 from the 325,000 prisoners of the Franco-Prussian 
 war, and, although they were worn out from long 
 suffering and captivity, badly clothed, unarmed, and 
 unclassed, it was plain that with time they could be 
 welded into a powerful and compact army. So 
 Monsieur Thiers was very patient. 
 
 On the other hand the " party of order " in Paris 
 lost what little faith it had retained in Adolphe 
 Thiers, and declared that its patience was at an end. 
 Day by day the Communistic revolt, which at first 
 pretended to justify itself in the cry of " Municipal 
 Liberty," was taking a sinister character, anything 
 but French. Every day the alarmed inhabitants of 
 Paris saw new actors enter the scene. The Hotel 
 de Ville had become a revolutionary headquarters. 
 Strange, suspicious creatures haunted it : Polish 
 dragoons in full uniform, with tasselled boots and flap 
 ping cloaks ; Garibaldians in red shirts, plumed hats, 
 and enormous spurs; "Hussars of Death" in the 
 fantastic panoply which has made their hideous 
 trapping an omen of violence and terror. With 
 crepe on their arms, revolvers in their belts, and long 
 sabres dangling, these strange creatures rode like 
 nightmares through the dimly lighted streets, or 
 stalked silently, two by two, enveloped in their vast 
 mantles. At night the cafes were crowded with 
 motley throngs who gambled and cursed and drank 
 with women of the most abandoned and dangerous 
 type. Gold was poured out like water, orgies 
 awakened the sober inhabitants whose expostula 
 tions were received with jeers and curses and an
 
 THE COMMUNE MOVES. 21$ 
 
 occasional playful bullet. The Belleville battalions 
 marched and counter-marched all day, blowing their 
 eternal bugles and drumming until the whole city 
 echoed from morning until night with one terrific 
 ear-splitting racket. 
 
 A terror which was not without reason seized 
 upon the good people of Paris. 
 
 " Are these bandits paid to annoy us in this 
 way? " they demanded of one another. The answer 
 came in a startling manner. The Central Committee, 
 revolvers levelled, " borrowed " 500,000 francs from 
 the Bank of France. Then anger and fright wrung 
 a cry of protest from the decent element in the city. 
 A great meeting of the peaceful citizens of Paris 
 was called for the 22d of March in front of the 
 New Opera. It was to be a silent protest, but an 
 imposing one. The people were cautioned to bring 
 no arms and to utter no hostile cry. They were to 
 march quietly through the streets, their attitude was 
 to be dignified and non-provocative, and they hoped 
 to show the inhabitants and the insurgent National 
 Guard that the majority of the bourgeoisie were not 
 in favor of the violence which was beginning to suc 
 ceed the brief interval of quiet. 
 
 All the morning these inoffensive people had been 
 gathering before the Opera, discussing the protest 
 of the press and the negotiations with Thiers. By 
 noon 10,000 people had gathered and still more 
 were flocking in, eager to take part in the pacific 
 demonstration which they hoped the Commune 
 would not dare disregard. From the Place de 
 rOpe"ra they could see, through the rue de la Paix,
 
 214 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 the formidable barricade which defended the Place 
 Vendome. 
 
 The Place Vend6me had been transformed into 
 a fortress. Cannon and mitrailleuses guarded the 
 barricade across the rue de la Paix, and the whole 
 square swarmed with the troops of the Commune. 
 Du Bisson, that loud-mouthed renegade, commanded 
 the western angle of the square ; Lullier, the southern; 
 and the commandant-in-chief, Bergeret, occupied the 
 centre with his bullion-covered staff. Bergeret, 
 clothed in a costume which would have driven an 
 opera tenor crazy with jealousy, sat on a keg in the 
 middle of the square and eyed the throng in front 
 of the Opera with a self-satisfied smile. 
 
 " If they come this way," he said to Du Bisson, 
 " I 11 mow em down only wait and see me ! " 
 
 Du Bisson stared at the grotesque and ferocious 
 imitation of Santerre and Rossignol. 
 
 " You d better wait until they do something to 
 merit it," he answered curtly ; " study your orders 
 more carefully, my friend." 
 
 " I want no advice," observed Bergeret, with 
 superb indifference. 
 
 "// s better than rotten eggs" said Du Bisson, 
 brusquely, and turned on his heel. 
 
 This allusion to an episode in " General " Ber- 
 geret s career, made that opera-bouffe warrior turn 
 livid, for not only had he once been a painter of 
 mediocrity, but at one time he had been hissed off 
 the stage of a fourth-rate theatre. Casting furious 
 glances around him at his staff to see if anybody was 
 laughing, he got up and marched over to a group of
 
 THE COMMUNE MOVES. 21$ 
 
 officers who were sitting on the barricade facing the 
 rue de la Paix. 
 
 "Where is Colonel Tribert?" he demanded. 
 
 Tribert rose and saluted. His face was battered 
 out of recognition, but his little eyes burned with a 
 red light above the mass of plaster and bandages, 
 and he held himself straight as a ramrod. 
 
 " Do you see those fools gathering there in front 
 of the Opera?" demanded Bergeret, pompously. 
 
 " I see," mumbled Tribert. 
 
 " You should say," corrected Bergeret, frowning, 
 " yes, General Bergeret." 
 
 " Pardon. Yes, General Bergeret." 
 
 " Have you a glass?" 
 
 " Here is one, General," said Sarre. 
 
 Bergeret took the glass and, steadying it across the 
 top of the barricade, gazed eagerly through the rue 
 de la Paix to the Place de I Ope ra. 
 
 " They have no banners," he said, without remov 
 ing his glass ; " they carry no arms either. It s all 
 the same. If they come this way, Colonel Tribert, 
 we will give them a tune to dance to." 
 
 Sarre grinned approval. Bergeret handed the 
 glass to Tribert, and, swelling like a turkey-cock, 
 turned slowly once or twice as if he were on a pivot, 
 and glanced up at the windows of the houses which 
 faced the square on the side of the Hotel Continen 
 tal. There were no ladies to admire him, and he 
 petulantly ordered that all the windows facing the 
 square should remain shut. As he spoke, a bay 
 window opposite was raised and two gentlemen 
 stepped into the balcony, conversing.
 
 2l6 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Shut that window ! " shouted Bergeret. 
 
 One of the gentlemen, a short ruddy little fellow 
 with very bright eyes, looked at him calmly for a 
 moment, then quietly resumed the conversation with 
 his companion. 
 
 " Do you hear me ! " bellowed Bergeret, furious 
 and conscious of the attention of his entire staff, 
 " shut that window and go in ! " 
 
 The short ruddy-faced gentleman quietly lighted 
 a cigar, leaned over the balcony, and observed 
 General Bergeret with an amused twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " Burnside," he said in English to his companion, 
 "who is that jumping-jack over there ? " 
 
 Du Bisson, seeing something was wrong, came up 
 hurriedly. " General," he said, " be careful what 
 you do ! That man is General Sheridan of the 
 United States Army and his companion is General 
 Burnside ! " 
 
 Bergeret bit his lip and turned on his heel. Tri- 
 bert s red eyes rested a moment on the two Ameri 
 cans who sat smoking and chatting on the balcony. 
 Then, with an ominous frown, he motioned Sarre 
 to his side and began a whispered conversation in 
 which Philip Landes name had the honor of being 
 eulogized in the choicest of Belleville French. Be 
 fore he had finished his consultation a bugle call 
 from the centre of the square brought every officer to 
 his feet. Then the drums rattled the " alarm " and 
 the troops fell in and " General " Bergeret, swelling 
 with importance, followed by his grotesque staff, 
 marched toward the eastern section of the barricade. 
 
 " What s up now ? " grumbled Tribert ; " oh, here
 
 THE COMMUNE MOVES. 21 J 
 
 they come, eh ? We 11 give them something to stir 
 them." 
 
 Sarre followed his superior s eyes and saw that 
 the crowd which had been gathered in front of the 
 Opera was in motion, and now, headed by a Line 
 soldier without arms who bore the tri-color flag, was 
 entering the rue de la Paix and making straight for 
 the Place Vendome. 
 
 At an order from Bergeret the troops formed a 
 square, officers in the centre, cannon at the angles. 
 At another order, rifles were loaded and bayonets 
 fixed, but, knowing their mission to be peaceful, the 
 procession of citizens continued to advance, urging 
 each other to remember and give no provocation. 
 " Vive la France ! Vive 1 order ! Vive la Garde 
 National ! " were all the cries which they permitted 
 themselves. On the way, thinking that possibly the 
 sight of the blue ribbons which many wore might be 
 taken as a pretext for violence, orders were given to 
 remove them. On they came, gravely, quietly, 
 until the foremost rank reached the barricade. Then 
 they requested the National Guard to let them pass, 
 as their mission was harmless and peaceful. Already 
 six or seven Federals had drawn back and opened 
 their ranks with friendly gestures, when suddenly 
 the drums rolled, and a strident voice was heard, 
 loud, frenzied, dominating the crash of the drums, 
 uttering terrible menaces. It was Bergeret, aping 
 the custom of the three legal summonses to disperse. 
 
 The citizens stared at each other in amazement. 
 
 "Ready! Aim! Fire !" shrieked this ape with a 
 tiger s heart. An explosion shook the barricade,
 
 2l8 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 and when the smoke rose, the rue de la Paix was a 
 ghastly shambles. With terror-stricken cries the 
 crowd turned and fled, trampling over the dead and 
 wounded, searching vainly for a place of safety. A 
 white-haired old man fell with a ball between his 
 eyes ; a young woman lay groaning on the sidewalk, 
 her left arm crushed by a bullet. Twenty corpses 
 lay in the rue de la Paix, and sixty people bleeding 
 from rifle bullets dragged themselves toward a place 
 of safety. Twelve corpses lay in one heap on the 
 corner of the rue-Neuve-Saint-Agustin. A doctor 
 wearing the brassard of the ambulances presented 
 himself at the barricade to help the wounded, but 
 Bergeret cursed him. 
 
 " F nous le camp ! On n a pas besoin de 
 
 vous ! " shouted the Colonel of the 8oth Battalion. 
 
 " Shoot him ! " yelled Tribert ; but Bergeret was 
 thinking of other things, and the doctor escaped by 
 a miracle. 
 
 Sarre sat on the top of the barricade laughing and 
 mimicking the efforts of a wounded man to drag 
 himself across the pavement to a doorway. 
 
 " He walks like a crab ! " he chuckled, holding his 
 sides with laughter. Tribert picked up a rifle and 
 blew a hole through the wounded man s head, 
 which annoyed Sarre, who claimed it spoiled the 
 sport. 
 
 When the news of the butchery reached the 
 H6tel de Ville, the extremists in the Central Com 
 mittee applauded frantically and shouted their appro 
 val. Some even said they regretted that Bergeret 
 had not been able to " slaughter the reaction with
 
 THE COMMUNE MOVES. 219 
 
 one blow." On a motion of Assi, the Committee 
 voted their thanks to Bergeret and his staff. A 
 document was drawn up and signed by the Com 
 mittee, and a Cavalier of the Republic left at full 
 gallop to carry the thanks of the Commune to the 
 Place Vendome. 
 
 Bergeret was radiant. He sat on his powder keg 
 receiving the homage of his officers, while at a little 
 distance from him Jules Valles, using a box of bis 
 cuits as a desk, sat writing his editorial for the next 
 morning s " Cri du Peuple," a villainous sheet of 
 anarchism. 
 
 It was that same vile editorial which began : " The 
 party of order having a fancy for disorder, the 
 National Guard brought them to their senses." 
 
 Since the nineteenth of March the " Pere Duchene," 
 a vulgar parody on Hebert s journal, had reappeared. 
 Its language was incredibly obscene, even for such 
 creatures as Vermesch, Humbert, and Villaume, the 
 editors of this ignoble sheet. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that when the news 
 of the butchery became known in Paris, the city 
 was thrown into a panic. A citizen, decorated with 
 the legion of honor, accompanied by an officer of 
 the National Guard and a captain of Franchetti s 
 Scouts, carried the tri-color through the Boulevards 
 crying, " To arms ! to arms ! " A great throng of 
 citizens and loyal National Guards crowded the 
 Place de la Bourse. Everywhere stores and cafes 
 closed their shutters, groups formed, and orators 
 denounced the insurgents. In these excited gath 
 erings people told each other that it was useless to
 
 22O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 parley with banditti who carried on systematized 
 assassination. There was but one way : meet vio 
 lence with violence. The news reached Versailles 
 and produced a profound impression. The govern 
 ment was urged to act. Even at that late date, a 
 sudden coup-de-main on the part of Thiers could 
 have saved the city. The road from Versailles to 
 Paris was still open, it was easy to seize the secteurs 
 between Saint-Denis and the gate of Auteuil with 
 the 10,000 men available, for now that the city was 
 aroused Thiers could count on all good citizens 
 and on 15,000 of the loyal National Guards for 
 active aid. 
 
 Even the Latin Quarter had risen and 6,000 
 students offered their services. The Ecole Poly- 
 technique, faithful to its honorable traditions, 
 marched in a body to the mayor s office and enrolled 
 for active service. 
 
 Time passed, but no word came from Thiers- 
 Paris was one great camp, half occupied by the party 
 of order, half held by the insurgents of the Com 
 mune. Wearied at last with waiting for Thiers, the 
 party of order began negotiations with the Hotel 
 de Ville. These negotiations lasted until the even 
 ing of the twenty-fifth, and on that night, news was 
 proclaimed that a day had been agreed upon for the 
 elections. They were fixed for the twenty-sixth of 
 March, Sunday, and the party of order, quieted by 
 the assurance and pledges given by the Commune, 
 retired, sent the students back to their schools, the 
 Polytechnique battalion to its college, and disbanded 
 the loyal battalions of the National Guard.
 
 THE COMMUNE MOVES. 221 
 
 It had been solemnly agreed that as soon as the 
 results of the elections were known, the Central 
 Committee would evacuate the Hotel de Ville. The 
 good people who composed the party of order be 
 lieved this, and went to bed on Saturday night with 
 light hearts, determined to do their duty as citizens 
 at the polls next morning. 
 
 At the Hotel de Ville, however, things were differ 
 ent that night. The Central Committee was making 
 merry, and wine flowed in rivers. 
 
 " What fools these bourgeois ! " said Assi to 
 Billioray, who smiled in reply. 
 
 Raoul Rigault, very drunk, staggered to his feet 
 and pointing at Bergeret cried : " There is the man 
 who filled them full of good lead and steel, and I 
 tell you that I, when my time comes, will not be 
 behind him ! " 
 
 The fun grew fast and furious, the echoes of the 
 revelry reached the street where the hideous Hussars 
 of Death were on guard at the gates, and the citi 
 zens, passing with affrighted glances, heard these 
 fantastic birds of ill-omen croaking to each other like 
 ravens before a battle.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 
 
 IN the studio the days succeeded each other 
 quietly. Three times a week Joseph passed 
 and repassed the barricade on his journey to 
 the St. Germain market, but he was never molested 
 by the new battalion which occupied the rue Notre 
 Dame. The battalion was certainly a strange one. 
 The troops wore the pale-blue uniform and red fez 
 of the Turco infantry, cut like the zouave uniform 
 and resembling it in all but color. The many-but 
 toned gaiters were white, the body scarf crimson, 
 and the arabesques and facings on the turquoise 
 blue cloth were clear canary color. 
 
 It was known as the " First Battalion of Paris 
 Turcos," and Philip learned from Joseph that its 
 colonel was an individual named Sarre, " a merry, 
 rosy, round little fellow," he said, " whose laugh 
 makes one s flesh creep." 
 
 But Sarre never bothered the faithful concierge, 
 nor for that matter did any of the First Turcos. His 
 pass was in order, his mission not at all suspicious, 
 and the sentinels gossiped with him, cracked lurid 
 jokes at his expense, and gave him information 
 which he brought back each day to Philip. 
 
 Paris was quiet, with the quiet of a victim await- 
 
 222
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 22$ 
 
 ing death. The army at Versailles made no visible 
 movement, but it was asserted in Paris that intrench- 
 ments and parallels were being pushed in the direc 
 tion of the fort of Issy. 
 
 There were rumors of an intended sortie in force 
 to crush the army of Thiers before it could be 
 strengthened by the prisoners who were arriving 
 from Germany. 
 
 Bergeret talked loudly and added several ounces 
 of gold braid to his tunic ; Flourens, brave, shifty, 
 and probably a little insane, stalked about in com 
 pany with the sinister, sneering Billioray ; Duval 
 worked night and day with Eudes and Cluseret to 
 perfect the scheme of defense, and the Central 
 Committee bickered, accusing each other and every 
 body they knew of being " suspects," until denun 
 ciations, midnight visits, and sudden silent arrests 
 terrified the revolutionists themselves. Nobody was 
 safe ; nobody, not even the generals of the Commune, 
 not even the members of the Central Committee, 
 dared face an accusation until they could defend 
 themselves by a counter accusation. Denunciations 
 were at a premium. He who accused most violently 
 was the greatest patriot. The prisons were filling, 
 and Raoul Rigault raged everywhere, urging, for 
 cing, driving his creatures to spy, shadow, denounce, 
 and arrest. People trembled when he passed ; even 
 his own friends, even the members of the Commune 
 themselves, would avoid meeting him in the street if 
 possible. All day long he sat in his official den, 
 surrounded by his satellites, inquiring, examining, re- 
 proachingthe unfortunate citizens brought before him.
 
 224 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 With terrible threats, or still more terrible laughter, 
 he would bellow, " Fiche moi $a dedans ! " and the 
 prisoner would be seized and driven with taunts and 
 blows through the streets to one of the prisons. 
 
 When evening came this bloodthirsty young man 
 doffed his scarf of office, dusted his clothes, and 
 went home. Here, "business" finished, he affected 
 the airs of a dandy ; perfumed and gloved, he and 
 his familiars dined extravagantly at some fashion 
 able restaurant, and then, crossing the river to the 
 Latin Quarter, they spent the evening drinking with 
 degraded women in front of the caf6s on the Boule 
 vard St. Michel. 
 
 Joseph, bringing to Philip as usual the gossip of 
 the barricade, related, under his breath, how Raoul 
 Rigault, drinking with his creatures on the terrace 
 of the Cafe Cardinal the night before, had cried with 
 an oath : " I need a bouquet of 30,000 heads before 
 I can clean out the traitors ! " The caf was crowded 
 with students and citizens who heard, and the next 
 day the city knew and cowered lower than ever. 
 
 Of the rumors brought in by Joseph, Landes did 
 not prevent many from reaching Jeanne. It was 
 best she should know the truth, and he had un 
 bounded confidence in her spirit and judgment. He 
 pondered all sorts of plans for communicating with 
 the American Minister, but they came to nothing, 
 and he tried in vain to get messages to Jack Ellice 
 and de Carette. He had nobody to trust except 
 Joseph and he dared not draw suspicion upon him, 
 because on J.oseph s freedom to traverse the barri 
 cade rested their only chance for food.
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 22$ 
 
 So the days passed very quietly in the studio. 
 Tcherka s tail was still too gaudy to suit her mis 
 tress taste, and the puppy dug more than enough 
 holes in the garden. The warm breath of the coming 
 spring started the pink buds on the almond trees, the 
 lilac leaves uncoiled in delicate green, the goldfish al 
 most became animated, and the blackbird was wooing 
 his mate, a soft-eyed wild creature which had come 
 into the garden from Heaven knows where, and sat 
 all day on the tip of the almond tree. Such songs 
 as the blackbird sang ! What wonder that the shy 
 new-comer listened ! Then one day Jeanne came in, 
 radiant, and led Philip out to the almond tree. High 
 on a safe, slender branch nestled the rudiments of a 
 nest. The blackbird, proud and happy, balanced 
 himself above it and held a bit of straw in his bright 
 yellow bill. The lover had turned architect. It is 
 true that he occasionally forgot, and let the straw or 
 twig fall while he sang a little, but his mate never 
 found fault and the building of their little home con 
 tinued. Tcherka licked her whiskers and blinked at 
 it. It was too safe. 
 
 The rue Notre Dame was constantly patrolled by 
 the sentinels of the First Turcos. 
 
 Philip never went near the outer wicket, but from 
 the entrance to the ivy-covered alley he could see 
 them without being seen. Once, when a group of 
 officers passed, he imagined he recognized Sarre in 
 a fat little wretch who wore the baggy scarlet trou 
 sers of the Turco officers, with the triple blue 
 stripe, the gold-embroidered kepi, and the pale 
 blue jacket. However, the officers passed without
 
 226 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 a glance at the wicket, and his nervousness gradu 
 ally wore off. 
 
 Jeanne posed for him every day, sometimes sitting 
 on the edge of the stone fountain, sometimes lying 
 in a hammock which he had swung for her between 
 the almond trees. 
 
 When showers fell she posed in the studio, and it 
 was there that he began and finished the beautiful 
 portrait called " Youth," which has since been ac 
 quired by the French government. 
 
 Jeanne never wearied of watching Philip while he 
 painted. He had a habit of biting his under lip 
 when he worked which gave a peculiarly serious 
 expression to his youthful face. This impressed 
 Jeanne. From the first she had no doubt that, if 
 Philip was not already one of the greatest of artists, 
 his becoming so was merely a question of time. Her 
 admiration and her delight in his color were genuine. 
 Her enthusiasm stirred him profoundly, and, per 
 haps, but for that the portrait of " Youth " might 
 never have been finished. 
 
 Until now he had never taken himself seriously. 
 Although his respect for his work had been great at 
 all times, his self-confidence was incrusted with cyni 
 cism, and he never could understand why he con 
 tinued to study his profession. 
 
 Sometimes for weeks together he did not touch a 
 brush ; it is true that he was always staring at the 
 sunlight or the blue tracery of shadows. Pure notes 
 of glowing color thrilled him with pleasure. Unlike 
 many of his comrades, he never saw in nature any 
 thing unhealthy or colorless, nor, when he walked
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 
 
 under blue skies, did nature transpose itself into 
 human nature. 
 
 He read the poets who compared the interlacing 
 of forest trees to human embraces, who sang of 
 innocent flowers and attributed to them the passions 
 of human beings, and it nauseated him. He never 
 could see that a splendid snow peak resembled a 
 woman s breast. It always looked like a snow peak 
 to him. The murmur of the sea had for him noth 
 ing of human desire. He loved nature for herself. 
 
 Jeanne and he exchanged few words on the sub 
 ject, but each was sure of the other s sympathy and 
 understanding. 
 
 A sunbeam searching the depths of the brown 
 water in the fountain, a shadow trembling on the 
 white wall, a breeze whispering among the lilacs, 
 then a glance, the flutter of the lashes, a faint smile, 
 and their hearts were at ease, for each had read and 
 loved the other s thoughts. 
 
 When Philip s hand faltered and the light was 
 shifty, when the sun became overcast and the sur 
 face of his canvas changed color like a chameleon, 
 Jeanne would rise from her seat and say: "Come, 
 Philip, I wish to walk in the garden." Then with 
 pretty ceremony she would accept his arm, and they 
 would stroll gravely over the gravel as if they were 
 sauntering through a portion of some vast estate. 
 
 On one of these limited tours they stopped to 
 watch a mottled garden toad making his way toward 
 a hole in the wall. His gait and personality were 
 obtrusive and vulgar and Jeanne turned up her 
 nose.
 
 228 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Oh, he s an old acquaintance," said Philip, " he 
 comes out every spring." 
 
 " He is very common," said Jeanne ; " I never 
 imagined any little creature of God could look so 
 underbred." 
 
 " He s not graceful," said Phillip, smiling; "you 
 should see him jumping after gnats on a summer 
 evening. I call him Monsieur Prudhomme. " 
 
 " What a name for a toad ! " 
 
 " It suits him. See ! he has just given one of his 
 graceful leaps." 
 
 Jeanne threw back her pretty head and laughed. 
 Monsieur Prudhomme squatted in the tender spring 
 grass, unconcerned, callous, emotionless. He had 
 swallowed a giddy young beetle and was digesting 
 it. Toodles came along and nearly barked himself 
 out of his skin at the sight of Monsieur Prudhomme, 
 but kept at a safe distance, describing eccentric cir 
 cles round him until Philip, gently but unceremoni 
 ously, shoved Monsieur Prudhomme through a hole 
 in the garden wall. 
 
 "Do you wish to paint any more?" inquired 
 Jeanne. 
 
 " No," he replied, " I feel lazy. How warm the 
 sunshine is. I believe those lilacs are budding." 
 
 " Oh, I knew that yesterday," she said. " There is 
 a violet already out in that bed over there. I saw 
 it this morning from my hammock." 
 
 He started for the violet bed, but she called to 
 him : " You are not to pick it you know." He 
 came back smiling.
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 229 
 
 " Won t you have it for a souvenir of our 
 garden ? " 
 
 She shook her head and sang softly : 
 
 " Le souvenir, present celeste, 
 Ombre des biens que Ton n a plus, 
 Est encore un plaisir qui reste, 
 Apres tous ceux qu on a perdus." 
 
 " I don t want a souvenir now, and I shall not 
 need one then." 
 
 " I suppose a shade is all that will remain of these 
 days in a little while," said Philip. She glanced at 
 him wistfully without replying. As for him he was 
 looking another way. 
 
 " Well," she said at last, " if all the rest is lost 
 will it not be good to have even the shade?" 
 
 " But that will soon go too, Jeanne." 
 
 " No, I shall keep it as long as I live. And that 
 will be a long time," she added lightly, shaking 
 off her seriousness. " I mean to be a very old lady, 
 if you please, Monsieur, I intend to live a great while 
 and be very happy 
 
 A violent ringing at the gate interrupted her. 
 She turned white and looked at Philip with wide 
 startled eyes. 
 
 " Now who can that be ? " he muttered. " Jeanne, 
 go back to the studio quickly." 
 
 " I shall remain here," she said, with a little catch 
 in her breath. " Oh, Philip, can it be the Commune 
 has found you ?" 
 
 " Me ? It is you they are after." 
 
 " They can t harm me, but you oh, Philip ! "
 
 230 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Do as I ask you, Jeanne, go to your room at 
 once." She refused to move and looked at him 
 imploringly. 
 
 "Can you get over the wall?" she whispered. 
 " Quick ! I m sure you can. I will meet them I 
 can detain them. Oh ! go, Philip ! " 
 
 He looked down into her face. " Won t you 
 please go into the studio ? " 
 
 She refused with a slight shake of her head. The 
 gate creaked, steps sounded along the alley. 
 
 "They are coming!" gasped Jeanne, and threw 
 both arms around his neck. 
 
 Before Jeanne could take her arms away again a 
 man in a long blue blouse flung his cap on the 
 ground and rushed at Philip who stared at him and 
 shouted, " Ellice ! " and while they were hugging 
 each other like two Frenchmen she had time to 
 realize that the man s companion, who wore the 
 dress of a market woman of the Halles, was Ma 
 demoiselle de St. Brieuc. 
 
 " Jack ! " cried Landes. " Are you all right ? " 
 
 " I am and you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I m all right. Where is Alain de Carette? " 
 
 " At Versailles." 
 
 " How did you pass the barricade ? " 
 
 Jack sat down on the edge of the fountain, drew 
 a large red bandanna handkerchief from the recesses 
 of his blouse, wiped his face with it, looked after 
 Mademoiselle de St. Brieuc who was disappearing 
 with Jeanne through the studio door, and laughed. 
 
 " We re beauties, what do you think, Philip ? 
 We sell vegetables now. Our baskets are in Joseph s
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 231 
 
 lodge at the gate. Did you think of buying a few 
 cabbages ? " 
 
 " Tell me how you got here," repeated Philip. 
 
 " Well, I hardly know myself. You Ve got a 
 nasty barricade on the corner, have n t you ? " 
 
 " We have ! Go on ! " 
 
 " Well we decided that we must get to you some 
 how or other ;- yesterday we sold your rascally Tur- 
 cos artichokes and musty turnips, but they would n t 
 let us through the lines, and we tried again to-day. 
 Just now, as we reached the barricade, the street 
 suddenly went mad. A commissary s wagon which 
 was bringing in a lot of live poultry struck a cannon 
 and tipped over. You ought to have seen those hens 
 and turkeys scratching gravel to get away, and those 
 thieving Turcos after them. A fat rooster ran be 
 tween my legs and the Turco in chase knocked me 
 flat in his hurry to grab the fowl. When I got up 
 they both were running and squawking down the 
 street. The officers could n t do anything with the 
 men. The barricade was empty in no time, every 
 body chasing turkeys. Mademoiselle de St. Brieuc 
 and I saw our chance, and we simply walked through 
 an opening in the barricade, and before anyone could 
 detect us we were hidden by the corner of the street 
 above the convent. There was a sentry up by the 
 rue Bara but I suppose he thought it was all right as 
 long as we had passed the barricade. When he was n t 
 looking we pulled the bell and here we are." 
 
 " If you knew how welcome ! Come in and be 
 comfortable ! " cried Landes, and he led the way to 
 the studio.
 
 232 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Joseph," said he, dragging a lounge into the 
 bedroom, " will make up a bed on this for one of us, 
 and there is my bed for the other. Mademoiselle 
 de St. Brieuc will share the room of Mademoiselle 
 de Brassac of course " 
 
 " Oh, I won t stay. You can t put up four in a 
 place only meant for two. Mademoiselle de St. 
 Brieuc is glad to be with another woman, of course, 
 but after I ve seen you a little while I 11 go and 
 shift for myself." 
 
 " Oh ! will you ? How will you pass the barricade ? " 
 
 " Bluff it." 
 
 "And do you know the penalty for bluffing it? " 
 
 " No, what s the penalty? " 
 
 " Shooting on the spot without court-martial." 
 Jack looked blank. " What s the sense of looking 
 that way ? " said Philip. 
 
 " But I did n t mean 
 
 " Did n t you mean to risk your life to help me in 
 the Impasse de la Mort ? I think you did, Jack. 
 Is n t it rather late to stand on ceremony with me? 
 Besides do you realize that I have been a prisoner 
 here ever since that night, without speaking to a 
 man except Joseph ? " 
 
 " What about food ? " 
 
 " Joseph has a pass. It s only marketing for four 
 instead of two." 
 
 " Well, if you put it that way. But it did n t 
 seem when we came in just now as if you had found 
 the absence of male society 
 
 " Here," interrupted Philip, dryly, " don t you want 
 linen and some decent clothes ? "
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 233 
 
 " I do indeed. This blouse is not perfumed with 
 violet." 
 
 " Well you know the place as well as I do. 
 There s the dressing case, here s the bath, filled, 
 and I Ve had reason before now to think my clothes 
 fitted you ! " 
 
 " Pure calumny," said Ellice, shedding his blouse, 
 " where are the towels ? What are you laughing 
 at ? Get out or I 11 splash ! " 
 
 Landes went out into the studio where the con 
 cierge was poking the fire and waiting for orders. 
 Giving him instructions to provide for four, Philip 
 strolled on into the garden and sat down on the 
 edge of the fountain to smoke a cigarette. The last 
 rays of the sun fell aslant the gravel where the toad 
 squatted, cold and motionless. 
 
 " So you re back again, my friend," laughed 
 Philip. For a while he sat and smoked, with his 
 eyes fixed on Monsieur Prudhomme, but he was not 
 thinking of Monsieur Prudhomme. The two gold 
 fish floated near the surface of the water, staring 
 intently until a flighty new-born gnat tumbled into 
 the basin, then they jumped together and fell back 
 with loud flops. 
 
 " That must have been a gnat," he thought, "the 
 first this spring. It is already spring, the lilacs will 
 be in bloom by next week, so will the almonds and 
 acacias. What will the spring bring to us to 
 Jeanne and to me ? What will it bring to Paris to 
 France ? " He thought of the strange year that had 
 just ended the battles and rumors of battles of the 
 summer, the disaster of Sedan in the autumn, the
 
 234 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 siege with its wintry horrors and desolation, the sur 
 render and the entry of the German hordes. How 
 long was this era of battle to continue ? The new 
 year had begun badly. January passed amid an 
 iron tempest from the Prussian siege guns. From 
 the fifth until the twenty-seventh of the month, 
 great shells fell like monstrous meteors in Paris, 
 blowing to fragments women and children as well 
 as the city s defenders, tearing houses to pieces, 
 smashing churches, spreading terror and death even 
 in the hospitals where the helpless wounded lay. 
 
 February, the month of starvation, began with 
 famine and ended in riots. March had now just 
 ended, but what a month of horror had died with it. 
 This was the third of April. What would April 
 bring ? 
 
 He sat there thinking ; the old jingle kept running 
 through his mind until he repeated it aloud, 
 
 " April showers, 
 Bring forth May flowers." 
 
 He little knew how truly the old rhyme rang, for 
 the April showers were to be showers of blood, and 
 the May blossoms, the crimson flower of Anarchy. 
 
 Twilight fell as he sat pondering by the fountain, 
 and already in the studio a lamp glowed through 
 the drawn curtains. After a while Mile, de Brassac 
 came to the doorway and looked out into the garden. 
 She could not see him in the shadows, and she called 
 softly, " Philip, where are you ? " He rose at once 
 and walked to her. He thought of her arms around 
 his neck an hour before and felt his cheeks burning 
 in the darkness, but all the constraint was on his side.
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 235 
 
 " You will catch cold without your hat," she said, 
 u come in." 
 
 " Is Mademoiselle de Saint Brieuc well ? " 
 
 " Quite well. I have lent her everything she 
 needs." 
 
 " Well, you will be happy now to have a compan 
 ion here with you." 
 
 "Yes oh yes. She is very charming. Her name 
 is Marguerite," she said in a low sweet voice. 
 
 " Good-bye to our little promenades then," he 
 said sulkily. 
 
 For a moment she looked at him without speaking, 
 and he felt very silly standing there on the step 
 below her. 
 
 " Come," he said at last, " we must go into the 
 studio. Is Ellice there?" 
 
 " Monsieur Ellice is talking with Mademoiselle 
 de Saint Brieuc before the fire. If you had your hat 
 on we might take a little tour in the garden." 
 
 With a laugh she threw her scarf over his head 
 and tied it like a turban. Then she stepped to the 
 ground and took his arm. 
 
 " Thank you," he muttered ; she bent her head 
 gently and they moved out through the dark garden. 
 
 Twice they made the circuit in silence ; his heart 
 was beating very fast and the light touch of her 
 hand on his arm filled him with sensations which he 
 was too happy to analyze. 
 
 " We must go in," she said, as they approached 
 the doorway for the third time. He unwound the 
 scarf and placed it about her neck. Still she lin 
 gered a moment, her hands clasped behind her back, 
 her fair face half turned from his.
 
 236 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " I hope we shall have many more little walks 
 together in our garden," she said, " if you wish 
 it, Philip." 
 
 " I do," he replied in a low voice. 
 
 " Come," she whispered, " I hear Joseph bringing 
 the silver. Dinner will be served before you are 
 ready." 
 
 He followed her into the studio and went up to the 
 fireplace, where Mademoiselle de Saint Brieuc was 
 sitting, with Jack lounging on the rug beside her, and 
 Toodles bestowing his clumsy cheerfulness impar 
 tially on them both. Philip explained the arrange 
 ments he had made for their accommodation. " I 
 wish I could say comfort," he added. 
 
 " I will say it then. You will be more than com 
 fortable if you have Monsieur Landes for your host," 
 said Jeanne, looking after Philip, who had started 
 toward his room to get ready for dinner. He heard 
 without looking back, but all the time he was dress 
 ing he was asking himself what was the quality in 
 Jeanne de Brassac which made a man feel so proud 
 at her lighest approval. 
 
 " Did you find your gardener s dress a good dis 
 guise, Jack? " he asked when he rejoined them. 
 
 " Perfectly even to the perfume. That peasant 
 who owned it was a friend in need, but he was n t 
 tidy." 
 
 " You don t think anyone could have suspected 
 you ? " 
 
 " No one did, it appears." 
 
 " And your French is not all it might be, either," 
 mused Philip, " but perhaps you did n t talk much.
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 237 
 
 It s our voices and inflections that betray us," he 
 added thoughtfully. 
 
 " Not yours, Monsieur Landes," said Mademoiselle 
 de Saint Brieuc ; "you speak like a Frenchman." 
 
 He gave her a searching glance to see if it were a 
 compliment or sincerely meant. " But you must 
 know you do," put in Jeanne. " Here comes Joseph 
 with the soup ; will you give me your arm, Monsieur 
 Ellice?" 
 
 During dinner Jack Ellice did most of the talking, 
 with constant appeals to Mademoiselle de Saint 
 Brieuc. It was evident that Jack fancied himself in 
 love with her, and that her manner of receiving his 
 homage was more peremptory than flattering. It 
 was a mixture of indulgence and impatience which 
 said she thought him an excellent boy, but centuries 
 younger than herself. His love was not very obtru 
 sive, being confined to sudden lapses into silent sen 
 timental contemplation of the young lady, who was 
 certainly very pretty. Then after a few minutes he 
 would emerge and remain in a normal condition for 
 hours. 
 
 His temperament was winning, his character fickle, 
 he was true-hearted, kind, and brave, and only tire 
 some when under his sentimental spells. He never 
 met a pretty woman without falling in love in this, 
 manner, and then suddenly, without the least warn 
 ing, the spoony part of his affection would vanish, 
 and a hearty friendship would remain in its place. 
 With Jack, to love a woman once was to have an 
 immense kindness for her ever after. 
 
 When dinner was over Jeanne insisted that the
 
 238 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 men should smoke ; so they lighted cigarettes, and 
 Philip, blowing a luxurious whiff to the ceiling, 
 called upon Ellice to tell his story. 
 
 " And no embellishments, Monsieur Jack," said 
 Mademoiselle de Saint Brieuc, teasingly ; " I am 
 here to correct any mistakes, you know." 
 
 " It does n t need any embellishments. It s weird 
 enough without any, but I 11 not be a party to any 
 belittling of what I call the most astounding and 
 diverting adventures of the Demoiselle Marguerite 
 de Saint Brieuc and her faithful 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur Ellice," said Jeanne, gently, "but 
 unhappily the adventures are not over yet. Mustn t 
 we take them a little seriously until they are fin 
 ished ? " 
 
 Jack made her a bow and went on gravely : 
 
 " Mademoiselle is right. The situation is serious 
 enough, and nothing is gained by pretending not to 
 think so. When we left you in the cab we expected 
 to meet you again at my studio within an hour. Cap 
 tain de Carette was unconscious and Mademoiselle 
 de Saint Brieuc had some difficulty in replacing the 
 bandages on his wounds. I think they slipped that 
 time when Tribert knocked him down, you know." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 " I think Captain de Carette regained conscious 
 ness before we reached the rue de Sfax, did n t he ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Marguerite, briefly. 
 
 " Well, when we had crossed the Passage de Lille 
 and were about to enter the rue de Sfax, Mademoiselle 
 de Saint Brieuc, who was looking ahead from the cab 
 window, suddenly cried out to me to stop the driver.
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 239 
 
 I did so, of course, lucky for us she was on the 
 lookout. The whole street was full of Federal troops 
 raising Cain. They were all drunk, yelling like mad 
 men and firing their rifles into the air, so our cabby 
 backed his horses into the passage de Lille which 
 was as dark as pitch. I got out and stole up to the 
 corner to reconnoitre. The Federals were dragging 
 a man out of a vestibule, howling and cursing, and 
 discharging their rifles in every direction. They fin 
 ished the poor fellow with their bayonets and left 
 him never mind how. I was simply rooted to the 
 spot, and next thing I saw them break into another 
 house, and after driving every occupant into the 
 street, pillage and wreck it from roof to basement. 
 I could see them raging through the rooms with 
 lighted torches. Then they all came out again and 
 yelled Vive la Commune a mort Lebeau ! Le- 
 beau ! I thought, why, that is the man who disci 
 plined the National Guard during the siege ! He 
 lived in the rue de Sfax. Then a thought struck me 
 and made me jump. Whose house was it they were 
 wrecking and preparing to burn? Sure enough, 
 when I crept along close to the wall, and got near 
 enough to see it was my house and the furniture 
 of my studio, and the remains of my pictures lay, 
 with what was left of Monsieur Lebeau, in the middle 
 of the street. 
 
 " I did n t waste much time there after that, but 
 before I got away a National Guard fired at me, and 
 when I left the bullets were flying down the rue de 
 Sfax. Cabby set off at a gallop, it was all Mademoi 
 selle de Saint Brieuc could do to make him wait for
 
 240 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 me, and he never pulled up until we were on the Boule 
 vard St. Michel. Then he wanted us to get out ; he 
 said we need n t pay him if we d only go. The jolt 
 ing had loosened Captain de Carette s bandages, and 
 he was almost helpless from loss of blood. I told 
 Cabby to go ahead, and we started in search of lod- 
 gings. You can imagine how careful we had to be. 
 A wounded officer would have queered us badly 
 with the wrong sort of landlord. But it was easy to 
 avoid committing ourselves, for the friends of the 
 Commune were bawling for the Commune, and that 
 helped us very much in selecting our hotel-keeper. 
 After a long search we found one who was so quiet 
 we thought we could venture to trust him, and sure 
 enough he was loyal, Verdier, the landlord of the 
 Boule d Or, a little hotel on the Boulevard St. Mi 
 chel. We got Captain de Carette to bed, and Ma 
 demoiselle de Saint Brieuc dressed his wound while 
 we were waiting for a surgeon. When the doctor 
 came he said he could n t have done better him 
 self " 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur Jack ! he said nothing of the 
 kind." 
 
 " He said the bandages were all right, did n t he ? " 
 
 " He said they did very well but that is of no 
 consequence, anyway. Please go on." 
 
 " Well, the doctor was just on the point of leav 
 ing for Versailles and he had a pass from Raoul 
 Rigault, so we just forged another for de Carette. 
 Mademoiselle de Saint Brieuc absolutely refused to 
 let us provide her with one also." 
 
 " It was too dangerous," said the young lady ; " one
 
 THE SHADOW OF TERROR. 24! 
 
 forgery was likely to succeed, but a second, and for 
 a lady, would have been scrutinized." 
 
 " So the doctor took the Captain into his own 
 carriage and carried him off," said Ellice, soberly. 
 
 " Have you heard from Alain but no, you 
 could n t." 
 
 " Verdier had a letter from the doctor, after they 
 arrived at Versailles. He said his patient was all 
 right getting on, and would soon be ready for ac 
 tive service again. And Captain de Carette sent his 
 gratitude and his devoted service to the lady. The 
 letter said 
 
 " I told you I should correct you when you made 
 mistakes," interposed Mademoiselle de Saint Brieuc, 
 hastily. 
 
 " Very well, but this is n t one, you know. I read 
 it myself." 
 
 " And did he not mention you at all ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, he sent his regards to me." 
 
 " And he said nothing about courage and gener 
 osity ? " 
 
 " I forget I forget in fact everything that hap 
 pened for the next few days, excepting one which 
 drove all the rest out of my head." 
 
 Philip wondered if Jack could possibly be going 
 to forget his good manners and say that the com 
 pany of Mademoiselle de Saint Brieuc had driven 
 everything else out of his head. 
 
 " No," Landes decided, " he can t be such a fool," 
 and said aloud, " What was it ? " 
 
 " Merely that two days after we were installed in 
 
 the Boule d Or I thought it safe to venture out, and 
 
 16
 
 242 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 I strolled down the Boulevard St. Michel intend 
 ing to find out if I could what had become of you. 
 I was passing a corner and I noticed a crowd around 
 a bulletin, a big flaming poster, so I stopped to read 
 it. Imagine my abject terror when I found myself 
 reading a description of myself with a reward for 
 my apprehension, signed by Raoul Rigault. My 
 knees knocked together they did indeed " as Ma 
 demoiselle de Saint Brieuc looked up incredulously. 
 "You were mentioned too, Philip dead or alive 
 we re both wanted by Raoul Rigault. Mademoi 
 selle de Brassac and Mademoiselle de Saint Brieuc 
 also occupied several lines of large type, but they re 
 not wanted dead. Well I went back to the Boule 
 d Or and stayed there. Verdier came and held 
 a consultation with us. Mademoiselle de Saint 
 Brieuc s family live in Tours ; her friends here had 
 all fled to Versailles or elsewhere. She was good 
 enough to admit that she felt safer with my com 
 pany than without it 
 
 " I admitted much more of my confidence and 
 esteem for you than that, Monsieur Jack." 
 
 Jack colored with pleasure and went on: "Ver 
 dier finally advised us to try our luck at the barri 
 cade. There was a market gardener and his Avife 
 who sold garden stuff to him he bought their 
 clothes of them for six times what they were worth, 
 assuring them that if Raoul Rigault ever heard of 
 the transaction they would be corpses the same day. 
 We put on the things in spite of their smells and 
 sold vegetables at your barricade until we got in. 
 That s all."
 
 N 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 
 
 EXT morning before six o clock Landes 
 was writing a note. It said, when fin 
 ished : 
 
 " DEAR JACK: Now you are here to take my place, 
 I must go and see if I can t find some help. Your 
 blue blouse, etc., will do for a disguise if they 
 served you they will me. I am going along the 
 wall to the Passage Stanislas, and unless I have bad 
 luck I shall drop into the street there and make as 
 best I can for the Boule d Or. I hope your loyal 
 landlord Verdier will befriend me as he did you, 
 and will somehow manage to get a message into the 
 hands of our Minister. Anyway, it s worth trying, 
 and I don t think the risk is great. 
 
 " I expect to be here again before dark. Mademoi 
 selle de Brassac will know that I am doing no more 
 than my duty and will forgive my not taking leave. 
 
 " My best services to both the ladies. Keep them 
 and yourself in spirits, Jack. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " PHILIP." 
 
 He sealed the note, and addressed it to Ellice. 
 Then he drew the gardener s blouse over his head, 
 
 24-3
 
 244 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 pulled on the shabby trousers, and took up the cap 
 and bandanna handkerchief. 
 
 He stood a moment thinking, then placing the 
 letter on the night-table beside the bed, he quietly 
 entered the studio. Tcherka came to rub against 
 his legs but he did not notice her, for he was look 
 ing up to the little balcony and Jeanne de Brassac s 
 door. Next moment he was in the garden. 
 
 There was a ladder lying under a peach tree, and 
 he picked it up and placed it against the wall. The 
 wall was high, but he had no difficulty in climbing 
 to the top and walking along it until he reached the 
 intersecting wall of the garden in the rear. This was 
 also broad but much overgrown with rose vines. 
 He tore his blouse on the thorns and scratched his 
 face and hands, but he had no difficulty in following 
 it until it took a sudden turn and he came in sight 
 of the Passage Stanislas. But now another wall 
 covered with tiles blocked his way and he spent ten 
 minutes in trying to scale it. He failed, but there 
 was a chestnut tree growing close to the wall in the 
 garden below, so he dropped to the ground, scram 
 bled up the tree, and swung himself across to the 
 tiled wall. In a minute more he lay flat on his 
 stomach along the wall which borders the Passage 
 Stanislas, and peered down to where the rue Notre 
 Dame curves by the convent. There were no senti 
 nels in sight, the alley and the street were silent and 
 deserted ; he quietly dropped to the sidewalk and 
 hurried toward the Boulevard Montparnasse. 
 
 It was a queer sensation to find himself walking 
 in the street again. He looked about as if he had
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 245 
 
 suddenly dropped into a strange city. People 
 passed him, most of them clad in cap and blouse. 
 On the Boulevard the shops were still closed, but the 
 street was lively and the omnibuses and cabs were 
 running as usual. Every few moments he passed 
 soldiers of the National Guard, but nobody looked 
 at him and he began to feel at ease. He met scores 
 of men dressed as he was, and he was sure that if 
 anything had been amiss in his costume they would 
 have noticed it. Except for a barricade here and 
 there, it was difficult to believe that Paris was in a 
 state of insurrection. The life in the city had not 
 changed ; people were taking down their wooden 
 shutters, the crmeries were open and filled with 
 customers, and market \vagons passed in files along 
 the shabby Boulevard toward the square by the 
 Closerie des Lilas. On the Boulevard Montrouge 
 he stopped to buy a hot roll, and took it into a cre"- 
 merie where he ate it with a pat of fresh butter and 
 a bowl of chocolate. Two soldiers of Franchetti s 
 Scouts sat in the corner, jabbering noisily over their 
 cafe-au-lait. He listened to their conversation while 
 he sipped his hot chocolate. 
 
 The discussion centred on a debauch in which 
 they had participated the evening before, and after 
 a while their language became so disgusting that 
 Philip hurried with his chocolate and rose to pay 
 the reckoning. As he laid the six sous on the 
 counter and turned toward the door, a sentence 
 uttered by the elder of the two scouts arrested 
 him. 
 
 " Nom de Dieu ! if Raoul Rigault wants the man
 
 246 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 he 11 get him ; never fear, Sureau, he 11 get him ! 
 Tiens ! I should very much like to run across 
 either of them. I could pay you your ten francs 
 then, I d have money to toss out of the window, 
 eh ! Sureau ? " 
 
 " Tu m ennuis," replied the other, sulkily ; " if I m 
 not going to get my ten francs before you catch this 
 merle-blanc what s his name " 
 
 " Philip Landes is one, Ellice is the other," said 
 the elder soldier. " Alive or dead, it s the same 
 reward. I d fix them. Think, Sureau ! Imagine 
 poor old Pastoret coming in with two, both birds 
 together, one in each hand nicely spit through 
 with my bayonet ! " 
 
 " And my ten francs ! Get out with your white 
 blackbirds ! Look here I m in earnest Pastoret, 
 I want you to pay me that ten francs." 
 
 " I m going to pay there ! " 
 
 " No cheat." 
 
 " No cheat I tell you ! " 
 
 " Swear! " 
 
 " Tu te fiche de moi, espece de cretin." 
 
 The dispute recommenced with reference to the 
 orgie of the previous night, and Philip waited to 
 hear no more but hurried out into the street. 
 
 To his own astonishment the discussion of the 
 reward for himself, dead or alive, neither shocked 
 nor scared him. On the contrary, a pleasant shiver 
 of exhilaration passed through him, his face tingled 
 with excitement, and he stepped along with every 
 sense alert. He felt perfect confidence in his simple 
 disguise, he looked forward to a satisfactory termi-
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 247 
 
 nation of his mission, and he walked with an air 
 which was almost gay. 
 
 The Luxembourg Gardens were turned into a 
 military camp. As he passed along the gilded 
 iron railing beyond the Ecole des Mines, he saw 
 artillery parked on the northern terrace and cav 
 alrymen watering their horses at the basin of the 
 big fountain. Federal infantry were encamped 
 around the old palace, from which floated the red 
 flag of the Commune. Sentinels lounged before 
 each gate, chatting idly with citizens who came to 
 enquire for relatives among the insurgent battalions, 
 and sallow-faced officers, blazing with gold and 
 crimson, paced listlessly up and down the gravel 
 walks by the eastern palace wing. In the Place de 
 Medici two Hussars of Death sat motionless upon 
 their bony horses, their long cloaks hanging to the 
 stirrups, black crepe fluttering on their arms. Like 
 foul night-birds surprised by daylight, blinking 
 maliciously at the passers-by, these strange creatures 
 peered over the cloaks which shrouded their faces, 
 watching with fierce bright eyes every movement of 
 the people. 
 
 The dome of the Pantheon was glowing in the 
 sky, as he passed the rue Gay Lussac, and above it 
 the red flag of the Commune flapped black against 
 the rising sun. Figures passed across the terraced 
 roof, silhouetted against the bright blue above, with 
 a sparkle of buttons and bayonets as they turned. 
 On the Boulevard St. Michel the cafes were opening, 
 and those hopeless creatures, the morning absinthe 
 drinkers, dotted the terraces of the cafes " Rouge
 
 248 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 et Noir," and " Garibaldi." A few harsh-voiced 
 women, over whose pale faces the rouge was smeared, 
 were returning with their escorts from some fete 
 in Montparnasse, and their eyes, encircled by violet 
 rings, glittered with vice. Their escorts were stu 
 dents, weary and viciously drunk, and they filled 
 the street with coarse yells and shouts of defiance. 
 
 " Vive la Commune! " shouted one. 
 
 " Oh, non pas ca voyons," cried another ; " vive 
 Thiers!" 
 
 " Vive Theirs ! " they shouted ironically. 
 
 Then they noticed the Hussars of Death in the 
 Place de Medici, and shook their fists at them in 
 drunken bravado. 
 
 " Long live Thiers ! " they screamed. " Long live 
 the Republic!" Down with the Commune!" A 
 mort, les Hussards de la Mort ! " 
 
 Slowly one of the draped cavaliers turned in his 
 saddle and pointed at the students. Drunk as they 
 were they felt the menace of that outstretched arm ; 
 their yells and cat-calls died in their throats, and 
 one of the women ran into a cafe" shrieking hysteri 
 cally. A ghastly silent laugh stretched the skin on 
 the hussar s sunken face, his arm fell slowly to his 
 side, and his head sank again among the folds of 
 the long cloak. Only his eyes, restless and brilliant, 
 glittered venomously above the mantle. 
 
 Philip shuddered in spite of himself and a feeling 
 of insecurity began to trouble him. He was in a 
 quarter where he was well known, and, though he 
 pulled the visor of his cap low over his face, a nervous 
 ness, almost a foreboding set his heart fluttering
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 249 
 
 under the blue blouse. Then, as he turned from 
 the Place de Medici to cross the Boulevard, he met 
 Faustine Courtois face to face. She knew him at 
 once, but she passed on, very pale, and gave no sign 
 of recognition. The shock of the meeting unnerved 
 him, and he crept along the sidewalk, listening for 
 pursuing footfalls. Not that he feared Faustine, 
 but if she had recognized him so easily he knew he 
 was not safe. Any shop-keeper in the Quarter, 
 any student or grisette who wished to betray him, 
 through cupidity or from what they imagined to be 
 patriotism, would reap an easy reward and stand 
 high in the favor of Raoul Rigault. 
 
 Before he reached the rue des Ecoles he passed 
 half a dozen familiar faces, but nobody noticed 
 him and fear began to give place to hope. Still the 
 buoyancy and pleasant thrill of adventure had left 
 him ; he cursed himself for a fool in not making a 
 wide circuit behind the Pantheon and avoiding the 
 Boulevard as he would the plague. He could yet 
 escape passing through the Boulevard to the Palais 
 de Justice, and although he was not known in that 
 section he was prudent enough to turn into the rue 
 des Ecoles, enter the rue des Carmes, and pick his 
 way through the labyrinth of narrow crooked streets 
 which lie between the Boulevard St. Germain and 
 the river. The bridges which cross the left arm of 
 the Seine to the Isle St. Louis were guarded by 
 troops, so he turned to the left and walked along 
 the quays until he came to the Pont Neuf. There 
 people and vehicles were passing freely, and he 
 mixed with the crowd and crossed unmolested.
 
 25O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 The problem now was, how to get back to the 
 Boulevard St. Michel, or rather to that section of 
 it known as the Boulevard Sebastopol where the 
 little Hotel Boule d Or was located. Barricades 
 closed the quays along the right bank of the Seine, 
 but the Place du Carrousel was open and he decided 
 to make the circuit by way of the rue de Rivoli. 
 He crossed the court of the Louvre and entered 
 the street. It was useless ; barricades cut him off 
 on every side. For hours he wandered through the 
 city, always attempting to find a path through the 
 jumble of streets and alleys to the Boulevard Sebas 
 topol. In vain, and at last he had to own it to him 
 self as he stood, wearied and discouraged in an 
 archway, wondering what he should do next. 
 
 Across the street a sentinel was standing before 
 a gray stone building which he recognized as the 
 residence of the Archbishop of Paris. He had 
 often seen the gentle, kindly old man, and he won 
 dered what the sentinel was doing there. The senti 
 nel was doing nothing as far as Landes could see, 
 for people passed freely in and out of the court-yard, 
 and carriages drove through the porte cochere. A 
 sudden thought struck him. Suppose he could get 
 speech with the Archbishop, and suppose the Arch 
 bishop should find means of sending a message to 
 the American Minister ! Without waiting a mo 
 ment he crossed the street, passed the sentinel who 
 paid no attention to him, and entered the court-yard 
 of the Archeveche. As he stood looking for the 
 right doorway, a servant approached and asked him 
 what he wanted.
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 2$l 
 
 " I wish to see Monseigneur Darboy," said Philip, 
 boldly. 
 
 " Monseigneur Darboy is at the Madeleine with 
 the cure of the Madeleine," replied the servant. 
 
 " When will he return ? " demanded Philip. 
 
 A priest was passing and the servant approached 
 him with a low bow. " Monsieur l abb, this young 
 man wishes to see the Archbishop," he said. 
 
 The abbe Lagarde, vicar-general to the Arch 
 bishop of Paris, turned pleasantly to Philip. 
 
 " Do you wish to see the Archbishop, my son ? " 
 
 " Yes, my father." 
 
 " He will return by one o clock ; come then," said 
 the abbe, with a sad smile, and turning to the ser 
 vant, " see that this young man is admitted," he 
 added. Philip thanked him and took his leave. 
 
 When he stood again in the street and looked at 
 his watch, he found that it was twelve o clock. There 
 was an hour to wait, and he wondered how he could 
 best use it. For an instant he thought of attempt 
 ing to reach the American Minister himself, but re 
 membered Wilton s warning and Joseph s experience. 
 Then another impulse seized him. He would have 
 time to go to the Hotel Ferret in the Place Pigalle 
 before the Archbishop returned. 
 
 " Who knows," he muttered I may be able to find 
 some clue. Anyway I will go and reconnoitre." 
 
 It took him longer than he had thought it would 
 to reach the Place, for barricades were numerous and 
 the detours long, but at last he entered the square, 
 found it quiet and entirely deserted, and crossed the 
 street to the Hotel Ferret. The hotel appeared to
 
 252 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 be empty, the door was locked, but the blinds were 
 up and the glass in the window beside the door, 
 which he had smashed with the butt of his revolver 
 two weeks before, had not been replaced. 
 
 Without hesitating a moment he climbed through 
 the shattered window and sprang noiselessly up the 
 stairs to the de Brassac apartment. The door was 
 open and he entered, his revolver in his hand, every 
 sense keen and alert. Almost at once he saw that 
 the apartment had been thoroughly ransacked. 
 Cabinets swung wide open, doors in the armoires 
 hung shattered from the hinges, beds were disman 
 tled and pulled to pieces, carpets and rugs lay heaped 
 in the corners, and bureau drawers lay scattered on 
 the bare floor. 
 
 He passed through the suite of rooms, treading 
 gently, searching every corner for a lurking enemy, 
 until he came to Colonel de Brassac s dressing-room. 
 On the wall, above a shattered dressing-table, hung 
 a rusty old pistol. He seized it, felt in the barrel, 
 touched a wad of something, worked at it until it 
 slipped out, and a stream of splendid diamonds 
 poured into his hand. He was so overcome with 
 excitement that for a moment he could neither move 
 nor breathe nor even think. Gradually his mind 
 cleared, but still he stood there motionless, ponder 
 ing how and where he should place Jeanne de Bras- 
 sac s little fortune in safety. Deep tenderness and 
 exulting pride made his heart beat thickly as he real 
 ized that he had been able to serve so well the woman 
 he loved ; and, as he tasted the full sweetness of this 
 thought, all at once, somewhere in the house, a door
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 253 
 
 opened and light footsteps sounded on the bare floor. 
 He thrust the diamonds into his pocket. The steps 
 ceased, a face flashed in a mirror above his head, and 
 down the long corridor which the glass reflected he 
 saw Georgias standing, his eyes starting from their 
 sockets, his jaw hanging loosely between the flabby 
 folds of his chin. The Greek saw him as he saw 
 Georgias, through the mirror. In an instant he had 
 bounded to the door, and at the same moment 
 Georgias fired and fled. With the crash of the 
 splintering mirror behind him, Philip sprang 
 through the corridor, firing as he ran, but Geor 
 gias turned into the hallway and sped down the stairs 
 toward the lower floor. As Philip jumped to the 
 landing he caught a glimpse of the Greek on the stairs 
 below. Coolly and deliberately he raised his arm, 
 knowing he had the man at his mercy, and without 
 the slightest compunction fired the last two cartridges 
 in his revolver. Both shots struck Georgias, who 
 screamed shrilly and plunged head-first down the 
 stairway to the tiled vestibule. He was quite dead 
 when Philip reached him. He lay on the stone floor, 
 a hideous heap in a widening pool of blood, his sin 
 gle-barrelled pistol clutched in one hand, a long thin 
 knife lying beside the other. Philip stooped and 
 picked up the knife, then flung it from him with a 
 shudder, for he knew it was the same that he had 
 seen in the Cafe Cardinal, the same that had been 
 sheathed in the throat of Colonel de Brassac. 
 
 The blood crept in long bright streams toward his 
 shoes, and he drew back. Very calmly he opened 
 his revolver ; the empty shells flew out and fell ring-
 
 254 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 ing to the stone floor ; then he carefully reloaded 
 every chamber, snapped the cylinder into place, and 
 thrust the weapon into the leather holster which was 
 strapped around his waist under the blue blouse. 
 Without another glance at the dead murderer, he 
 climbed through the broken window and dropped to 
 the sidewalk. 
 
 The square was still deserted. If there were yet 
 any inhabitants among the silent houses opposite, 
 they had either not heard the shots, or they pru 
 dently refrained from investigation. 
 
 He reached the rue Blanche without difficulty, 
 entered an alley, and threaded his way toward the 
 Archeveche. He had been away nearly two hours, 
 and he hastened his steps, fearing that the Arch 
 bishop might have returned and gone away again. 
 As he came in sight of the Archeveche, he saw a 
 carriage drive through the porte cochere, a priest 
 step out and then assist an old man to alight. Philip 
 entered the court-yard and found the same servant 
 who had given him information two hours earlier. 
 
 "The Archbishop has just returned," Landes 
 said, "I saw him leave his carriage and come in on 
 the arm of a priest. Will you ask him if he can 
 spare me an instant on a matter of life and death?" 
 
 "The Archbishop is tired," said the servant; 
 " Monseigneur is old and not at all in good health. 
 I am not to admit anybody." 
 
 " This is a matter of life and death," repeated 
 Philip, slowly. " And you remember that M. 1 Abbe 
 gave orders that I should be admitted." 
 
 The servant hesitated a moment but finally went
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 2$$ 
 
 away, and returned presently saying Philip was to 
 follow him. 
 
 They passed through long hallways and rich 
 apartments, the servant leading, until they came to 
 a closed door where a priest stood reading. He 
 looked up as Philip approached, dismissed the ser 
 vant with a silent nod, and then turned his keen 
 eyes on the young man. 
 
 "The Archbishop is tired and ill but he will not 
 refuse you," said the priest. " Follow me." 
 
 They entered a small room to the left, passed 
 through a doorway hidden by a curtain, and came 
 into a large sunny chamber where an old man was 
 lying on a lounge. His mild face, pale under the 
 fringe of snow-white hair, was drawn as if in pain, 
 but he smiled as Philip entered, and silently acknowl 
 edged the young man s deep obeisance. When he 
 spoke his voice was sad and weak, but there was 
 kindly sympathy in every line of his pallid face. 
 
 " Can I help you, my son ? " 
 
 " If you will, Monseigneur." 
 
 " If it be God s will," murmured Monseigneur 
 Darboy. " Tell me your trouble, my son." 
 
 Before Philip could reply a priest hurried into 
 the room and threw himself on his knees before 
 the Archbishop. He was laboring under terrible 
 excitement, and the Archbishop raised himself on 
 one arm and laid his hand on the priest s head. At 
 the same instant the street outside was filled with 
 the crash of drums ; the noise of an assembling 
 crowd grew louder and louder, the shuffling of many 
 feet sounded along the sidewalk, and there was the
 
 256 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 clang of arms in the court-yard. So suddenly had 
 this occurred that Philip had barely time to spring 
 to a window before the door burst open and an 
 officer of the National Guard strode into the room 
 and walked coolly toward the Archbishop. 
 
 After a moment of silence he had the decency to 
 remove his gold-laced cap and bow to the Arch 
 bishop, who returned his salute with quiet dignity. 
 Another officer entered and saluted mechanically. 
 He wore the uniform of a staff captain and carried 
 a folded paper in his gloved hand. 
 
 "Is this Monseigneur Darboy?" he demanded. 
 
 The Archbishop bowed silently. The officer 
 turned to his companion, who wore the costume of 
 the companies de marche. 
 
 " Captain Journeaux, take charge of the Arche- 
 veche." 
 
 The officer addressed saluted and withdrew with 
 out a glance at the Archbishop who had now risen 
 to his feet. Then the staff captain turned insolently 
 to the Archbishop and said in a quick, jerky manner: 
 " I am Captain Revol of the staff and I bring an order 
 for your arrest." With a brusque gesture he unfolded 
 the paper in his hands, and read in a nasal sing-song 
 voice, glancing sharply every moment at the two 
 priests who stood beside the Archbishop : 
 
 " Order is given to Citizen Revol, Captain Adjutant attached to 
 the Prefecture of Police, to enter the Archeveche and arrest the Sieur 
 Darboy who calls himself Archbishop of Paris, and to there seize all 
 papers of which a minute examination will be made. 
 
 " RAOUL RIGAULT." 
 
 " An order of arrest," repeated Monseigneur 
 Darboy, incredulously.
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 257 
 
 " Exactly," replied the officer, folding up the paper 
 and pocketing it. 
 
 "It is impossible, this outrage!" cried a priest. 
 He was sternly silenced by Revol. 
 
 It was the fourth of April, Holy Tuesday, and 
 the Episcopal Council had been in session at the 
 Archevech as usual, but had broken up at two 
 o clock and many of the prelates had gone. How 
 ever a large number remained, among them the 
 Vicar-General, the Abb Lagarde, who had gone to 
 bed with a sick headache. 
 
 Hearing the drums and the noise of the crowd 
 he had risen and dressed and now entered the room 
 where the Archbishop stood facing the Captain. 
 
 " Who are you ? " demanded the officer. The 
 Vicar-General took no notice of his question but 
 passed quietly to the Archbishop s side. 
 
 " Why am I arrested ? " asked Monseigneur Dar- 
 boy, looking at the Captain. 
 
 "Because," replied Revol, coolly, " last night a 
 body of Federal troops were fired upon in the rue 
 des Postes from the house windows. Monsieur the 
 Prefet of Police desires to question Monsigneur 
 about it, as it is believed that the shots came from the 
 windows of a religious society connected with the 
 Archeveche. Of course," he added, "there is nc 
 doubt but that Monseigneur will be allowed to 
 return at once to the Archeveche." 
 
 The Archbishop repeated this strange story to the 
 Abbe Lagarde who had left the room to bring a 
 warm shawl for the old man, and they consulted 
 earnestly for a moment in low tones.
 
 258 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Yes," Philip heard the Abbe say, " it is certainly 
 an invention. They have come purely and simply 
 to arrest you." 
 
 "And you consent to accompany me?" asked 
 the Archbishop. 
 
 " I do not consent I ask the privilege," replied 
 the Abbe Lagarde. 
 
 "Allons! En route!" said the Captain. 
 
 " Will you not permit me to say adieu to my 
 unhappy sister?" asked the Archbishop, mildly. 
 
 "There is no time for that sort of stuff," sneered 
 the Captain, motioning a file of soldiers to enter. 
 
 " Shame ! " cried Philip from the window, and the 
 next moment could have bitten off his tongue for 
 the Captain walked over and examined him with 
 sinister coolness. 
 
 " Who the devil are you ? An unfrocked priest ? " 
 he demanded. With an insulting gesture he laid 
 his hand on the blue blouse and started back 
 hastily ; he had felt the revolver underneath. 
 
 " Arrest that man ! " he cried to the soldiers. In 
 stantly Philip was surrounded by bayonets and 
 marched out between a double line of troops. 
 
 The Archbishop had profited by the diversion to 
 bid his sister farewell. He now re-entered, accom 
 panied by the Abbe Lagarde, and followed the 
 Captain down to where his carriage was standing. 
 Citizen Revol jumped up beside the coachman, and 
 his comrade Journeaux placed himself at the head of 
 the Federal battalion which was standing at attention 
 in the court. As the drums rolled another file of 
 soldiers appeared conducting Philip.
 
 A DANGEROUS QUEST. 259 
 
 " Put him in with Darboy ! " cried ReVol from 
 the box and Philip was hustled into the carriage, 
 the door was slammed, and the cortege started. 
 As they drove out of the porte cochere they passed 
 a group of women gathered at the entrance. Some 
 were kneeling on the sidewalk all were weeping. 
 One, a girl elegantly dressed, held up her hands 
 imploringly. Philip recognized Ynes Falaise. Mon- 
 seigneur Darboy s pale face bent benignly. He 
 raised his hands in benediction, Captain Revol 
 sneered and cursed the driver ; the carriage rolled 
 swiftly away toward the Place Dauphine.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RAOUL RIGAULT. 
 
 IT was a long drive to the Prefecture of Police, 
 and Monseigneur Darboy looked terribly ill 
 and worn. Nevertheless he had nothing but 
 words of encouragement for his companions, and 
 before long he remembered that Philip had some 
 thing urgent to communicate. 
 
 " My son," he said, " you wished to speak with 
 me on a matter of life and death." Philip at once 
 told his story. Monseigneur Darboy listened as 
 attentively as if he were safe and at ease in his own 
 residence, only when Philip had finished he sighed 
 heavily and said in a weak patient voice : 
 
 " Alas ! my son, you see how little I can do for 
 my friends at present. And perhaps but the event 
 is in God s hands if I can help you I will. Believe 
 that. And in case things should go very wrong 
 with me they may detain me, you know, in spite of 
 their promise to the contrary, but I do not think 
 they will, if then it should happen that I am pre 
 vented from doing what you wish, here is the Abb6 
 Lagarde. He at least can be in no danger. As 
 soon as he returns from the Prefecture of Police, 
 perhaps to-day, let us hope to-morrow at the latest, 
 he will go himself and lay your case and that of the 
 
 260
 
 RAOUL RIGAULT. 261 
 
 ladies whom you are so nobly protecting, before 
 the American Minister." 
 
 Landes, touched to the depths of his troubled heart 
 by the Archbishop s dignity and unselfish sweetness, 
 knelt and humbly asked his blessing. The touch 
 of those gentle old hands on his head brought him 
 a sense of peace, but Monseigneur Darboy was 
 overcome by weakness and the excitement of his 
 arrest, his face grew deathly white, he sank back on 
 the Abbe s shoulder and closed his eyes ; his thin 
 hands trembled. The younger men watched him 
 anxiously in silence for some time, then Philip spoke 
 again, in a low voice, to the Abbe Lagarde. 
 
 " I shall probably be shot before the American 
 Minister can interfere, even if you should return 
 to see him this evening. I have Mademoiselle de 
 Brassac s diamonds in my pocket. They are about 
 all the fortune she has. Will you take charge of 
 them, my father?" 
 
 "Yes," said the Abbe. 
 
 Philip made a little bag of the gardener s bandanna, 
 dropped the diamonds in, and tied the corners as 
 best he could. It was so large that when crumpled 
 together it made a good hiding-place for the beauti 
 ful stones, whose presence in its folds it was hard to 
 detect. The Abbe s sad face relaxed an instant with 
 a faint smile at the incongruity, as he placed the 
 clumsy cotton kerchief in the bosom of his soutane. 
 
 " Have you any message for Mademoiselle de 
 Brassac, my son ? " he asked. 
 
 "Tell her that I love her," said Philip, earnestly. 
 
 The Abbe bowed in silence.
 
 262 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 At that moment the coupe" stopped in the Place 
 Dauphine and Revol sprang from his place beside 
 the coachman and opened the carriage door. The 
 Abbe Lagarde stepped out and assisted the Arch 
 bishop to descend, then Philip crept out of the 
 coup6 and stood quietly before the Captain. 
 
 Now the Citizen Captain R6vol had no idea that 
 Philip was a prize. He did not know his name and 
 did not care to know it, but he did know that he 
 carried concealed arms and was found hobnobbing 
 with priests, and that was enough to make him doubly 
 a " suspect." Still, in ReVol s eyes Philip was of 
 small importance compared with Monseigneur Dar- 
 boy the Archbishop of Paris, so when Philip stepped 
 before him he was curtly told to follow in the rear. 
 
 The gate on the side of the Place Dauphine was 
 closed, but Revol ordered it to be opened, and, 
 followed by the three prisoners and two armed guards, 
 he entered the court. The court was crowded with 
 men who vociferated and gesticulated and filled the 
 yard with an indescribable tumult. They watched 
 the Archbishop with hostile or indifferent eyes until 
 a jailer appeared and ReVol handed over the pris 
 oners to him. 
 
 The jailer, a weak-eyed little ruffian with a long 
 scar across his cheeks, grinned impudently at the 
 two priests and motioned them to follow him. 
 Through corridor after corridor and salon after 
 salon where repairs were in progress, they passed in 
 single file, the jailer leading. Then they entered a 
 long suite of rooms which were filled with men, 
 smoking, drinking, and disputing in loud harsh voices,
 
 RAOUL RIGAULT. 263 
 
 but who paid them not the slightest attention. The 
 room beyond was empty, except for heaps of new 
 military clothing which lay in carefully arranged 
 piles on some long tables. The jailer paused in this 
 room and motioned Philip to stop. 
 
 " Your turn will come," he grinned, " but the 
 Church must not be kept waiting." Then, bowing 
 ironically to the Archbishop, he opened the door 
 and ushered him into the room beyond. As he did 
 not close the door behind him, Philip, leaning 
 against a table piled high with uniforms of the Na 
 tional Guard, could see into the room. The jailer 
 returned and winked as he passed. 
 
 " They will send for you in a moment. Climb up 
 on that table and you will see the fun ! " he said, and 
 disappeared, slamming the door behind him. 
 
 Philip clambered to the top of one of the tables 
 and looked through the half-closed door into the 
 cabinet of the Prefet of Police. 
 
 At the farther end of the room, almost opposite 
 the door by which the Archbishop and the Abbe 
 Lagarde had entered, stood a huge arm-chair on a 
 raised step. In the middle of this chair, before a 
 large table covered with green cloth, sat a small man 
 writing. On his head he wore a military cap, heavy 
 with gold bands, but his uniform was sombre and 
 edged with silver. His cold shallow eyes were raised 
 once or twice, but he took no notice of the Arch 
 bishop, who had entered with his hat under his arm 
 and now stood before the green-covered table. All 
 around the room lounged the creatures of the Preset 
 of Police, some sitting on the long benches, others
 
 264 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 standing and conversing in low tones. Most of them 
 wore some sort of uniform, and all affected broad 
 crimson sashes edged with gilt. 
 
 Suddenly Raoul Rigault raised his head, adjusted 
 the glasses on his nose, and with a violent gesture 
 demanded brutally who those people were. 
 
 "The Archbishop," cried somebody from the 
 other side of the room. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Rigault, " are you the Citizen Dar- 
 boy ? C est bien ! It is our turn now ! " 
 
 The Archbishop advanced a step or two. " May 
 I know why I am arrested ?" he asked mildly. 
 
 Rigault threw himself back in his arm-chair, and 
 waved his hand : " For eighteen hundred years you 
 priests have brutalized us with your superstitions. 
 It is time for that to stop. Your Chouans massacred 
 our brothers. All right, everybody has his turn. 
 This time it is we who have the power. We will 
 use it. Oh, we won t burn you a la Torquemada, 
 we are too humane. But we will shoot you ! " 
 
 The Archbishop raised his shocked face to the in 
 flamed face of Raoul Rigault. Then he looked sor 
 rowfully at the others, who had risen from their seats 
 and now crowded around the two priests. 
 
 " But listen, my children," he began gently. 
 
 These words raised a tempest of howls and jeers. 
 From every corner cries, groans, hisses, impossible 
 to describe, filled the air. The old man shrank back 
 and raised his hand to his forehead. 
 
 " What ! " shouted Rigault, thumping the table 
 with his clenched fist ; " you are smiling, citizen ! I 
 repeat that you will be shot, and in two days we will
 
 RAOUL RIGAULT. 26$ 
 
 see whether you will smile." Then he turned on the 
 Abbe Lagarde. " You there, who are you ? " 
 
 " Vicar-General of the Archbishop of Paris whom 
 I have the honor to accompany," replied the Abb6 ; 
 but Rigault, who probably imagined some affectation 
 in this response, shouted furiously: 
 
 " Here, you !- don t put on any of your priestly 
 airs with me. You re known as a suspect." 
 
 " Monsieur the Abbe is truly enough my Vicar- 
 General," interrupted the Archbishop, " but there 
 was no mandate of arrest against him, and he is at 
 this moment beside me because he consented, at my 
 request, to accompany me. I beg you to allow him 
 to depart." 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! ah ! " cried Rigault, with savage irony, 
 " the citizen is caged, let him remain caged ! Your 
 name? " 
 
 " Ernest Joseph Jean Lagarde." 
 
 " Good. Aliens ! Quick, an order of imprison 
 ment for Citizen Lagarde, and pack both of them 
 off to their cells at once, separated of course 
 never leave two priests together ! Captain, take 
 them in charge ! " 
 
 The captain to whom he spoke was grey-haired 
 and elderly. He had a pleasant face and simple 
 bearing and did not appear to share the fury of the 
 others. While Ferre countersigned the order for 
 imprisonment, the captain, raising his hand slowly 
 to his white moustache, stepped forward and said in a 
 quiet voice: " Citizen Rigault, I am an old soldier: 
 I refuse to accept such a mission." 
 
 At his words a sort of stupor seemed to fall upon
 
 266 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 the company, but Rigault, fearing probably that the 
 ominous silence might end in a more favorable feel 
 ing toward the prisoners, turned to a lieutenant who 
 stood swaying on his spurred heels near the door. 
 The lieutenant was very drunk, so drunk that after 
 raising his hand to his cap and hic-coughing, " Avec 
 plaisir, mon Commandant," he neither was able to 
 direct the eight soldiers who formed the guard, nor 
 find the door without assistance. 
 
 In the meantime, Philip stood on the table in the 
 next room watching with fast beating heart the cruel 
 scene passing in the cabinet of Raoul Rigault. He 
 was alone and unguarded, but behind him lay the 
 long stretch of apartments filled with troops and 
 secret agents, and in the room in front, he knew only 
 too well, a short shrift awaited him. When Rigault 
 turned furiously on the Abb6 Lagarde his heart sank 
 and he crept down from the table and leaned against 
 the pile of clothing. Was there no hope? He stared 
 wildly about for a window. There was one, but it 
 had been closed with iron bars. Then his eyes fell 
 on the piles of uniforms arranged neatly on the tables. 
 Hardly knowing what he was about he seized a 
 pair of trousers and pulled them ox r er his linen 
 ones. They buttoned without difficulty. In a mo 
 ment he had caught up a tunic of the National 
 Guard, flung it over his shirt, and tucked the long 
 skirts of the blouse into his trousers. He buttoned 
 the tunic to his throat, clasped a belt about his 
 waist, and found a kepi which fitted. Through the 
 open door of Rigault s cabinet he heard the order 
 given for the removal of the prisoners, and the tread
 
 RAOUL RIGAULT. 26; 
 
 of the platoon advancing. In desperation he flung 
 open the door of the room opposite and walked 
 boldly through the crowded hallway which reeked 
 with the smoke and stench of stale tobacco. 
 
 " Where are you going in such a hurry, citizen? " 
 cried a man. 
 
 " They are bringing the Archbishop to prison ! " 
 replied Philip ; and the people in the room rose and 
 crowded forward to catch a glimpse of Monseigneur 
 Darboy. 
 
 Philip kept straight on until he reached the court 
 yard now packed to suffocation with a sullen, vicious 
 crowd. 
 
 " Where is the Citizen Darboy ? " they cried when 
 he appeared at the door. 
 
 " They are taking him to prison ! " shouted Philip, 
 " make way there ! " The throng parted and he 
 squeezed his way to the gate. It was locked. For 
 an instant he stood in despair, but he heard the 
 measured tread of the platoon, and then a wild 
 shout from the crowd, as they came in sight. There 
 was no time to be lost. He sprang onto the cross 
 bars of the iron gate, climbed to the top, and dropped 
 to the street uninjured. Every eye was fixed on the 
 Archbishop, who now appeared supported by the 
 Abbe Lagarde ; no one saw Philip except the little 
 weak-eyed jailer and his yells were lost in the roar 
 of the mob. So when the jailer reached the gate 
 and, flinging it open, rushed into the street, Philip 
 had disappeared.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE A WAKENING. 
 
 JACK ELLICE awoke with a sense of being more 
 comfortable than he had been for a long time. 
 He turned over and looked out into the studio ; 
 the window was open, the sunshine and the black 
 bird s song came in together. 
 
 " Philip," said Jack, " what time do you have 
 breakfast ? " Not receiving any answer he sat up 
 and looked at Philip s bed. As it was empty and 
 tumbled, Ellice concluded the hour must be rather 
 late, and he stood up and stretched. Then his eye 
 fell on the note which lay folded beside his bed, and 
 he picked it up. By the time he had read it he was 
 very wide awake. A clatter of dishes came from 
 the studio. 
 
 " Joseph," called Ellice, " where is Monsieur 
 Landes?" 
 
 " I don t know, Monsieur Ellice, is n t he with 
 you ? " 
 
 " He s gone ! That s certain ! " said Jack to him 
 self. He turned irresolutely back, took a spiritless 
 plunge in the bathtub, dressed hastily, and walked 
 into the studio. The clock pointed to half-past 
 eight ; Philip had already been gone two hours and 
 a half. 
 
 268
 
 THE A WAKENING. 269 
 
 Joseph, who had returned with the milk and cream 
 jugs, eyed Jack with doleful persistence until he 
 responded with an equally doleful nod. " Yes, he 
 has gone away to seek help for us all." 
 
 " Je m cn doutais," snivelled Joseph; "ah! Mon 
 sieur Philip is so brave mais voyons, Monsieur 
 Ellice, nous etions tres bien ici ! " 
 
 " Yes, I think we were doing well enough as we 
 were, and I wish he had not run the risk just at 
 present." He took the letter from his pocket and 
 translated it to Joseph, who was now weeping among 
 the cups and saucers. 
 
 " What do you think, Joseph," demanded Ellice, 
 as the concierge drew his hand across his eyes, "was 
 there any chance of the Turcos seeing him from the 
 rue Notre Dame when he dropped into the Passage 
 Stanislas ? " 
 
 Joseph did not know and of course feared the 
 worst, and his melancholy became so oppressive that 
 Ellice sent him out and sat down, turning the letter 
 over helplessly in his hand. Tcherka walked up, rub 
 bing against his legs, demanding her breakfast in loud 
 tones, and Toodles, his nose all caked with soil, 
 came pattering in with an unpleasant-looking bone 
 in his mouth, which he had buried some days before 
 in the garden and had now resurrected. In a few 
 moments the door above opened and the chatter 
 and silvery laughter of girls filled the studio. 
 
 " Good-morning, Monsieur Ellice," said Jeanne, 
 coming to the edge of the balcony and looking down, 
 " I trust you slept well, oh, please do take that 
 bone away from Toodles ! He will drag the most
 
 2/O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 awful things into the studio. Oh, thank you very 
 much ! Bad Toodles ! No, there s no use wagging 
 your tail, for your mistress loves Tcherka, not you 
 at all ! " 
 
 "And that is what we do not believe, do we, 
 Toodles?" said Marguerite, coming out on the bal 
 cony. " Good-morning, Monsieur Ellice, is Mon 
 sieur Landes still asleep?" 
 
 "Very well, then, we will put all the cream in 
 Monsieur Ellice s coffee!" cried Jeanne, leaning 
 over the balcony and speaking to the closed door 
 of Philip s room. 
 
 " Monsieur Ellice," laughed Marguerite, "you look 
 very sad. Are you hungry, and have we kept you 
 waiting?" 
 
 " Listen to Tcherka," said Jeanne, " listen to the 
 poor darling ! She wants her breakfast and she shall 
 have it," and catching Marguerite s hand in hers she 
 ran down the stairs to the studio. " Joseph ! the milk 
 if you pi Mademoiselle de Brassac stopped 
 
 short and looked Jack scarchingly in the face. 
 
 " Monsieur Ellice, what is the matter? " 
 
 " Don t be alarmed " he began awkwardly. 
 
 " Something has happened to Monsieur Landes?" 
 
 " No, oh no 
 
 " Where is he then ? " 
 
 "You see " began Jack. 
 
 " Please tell me at once. Has he been taken?" 
 
 "No no not at all," stammered Ellice "only 
 but perhaps you had better read this " and he 
 gave her the letter, feeling that if it was not the best 
 way of breaking the news to her it was at least none
 
 THE AWAKENING. 2/1 
 
 of his choosing. Jeanne and Marguerite read it 
 together. 
 
 " You see, he s only gone to look for help. He 
 wore my market gardener s disguise and, as he 
 says, if it served me it will him. Oh, he 11 come 
 back all right," said Jack, with a jauntiness that 
 did not deceive anyone. 
 
 " I am the most miserable girl in the world. I 
 make people who are better than I risk their lives for 
 me," said Mademoiselle de Brassac, turning away. 
 
 "Mais non ! mais non, ma cherie ! " said Mar 
 guerite, tenderly, " it will not be long before he 
 returns." 
 
 "We must wait," answered Jeanne, in a dull voice. 
 
 She took the head of the breakfast table and saw 
 that the others were served, and when the formality 
 had been gone through she sat in her place looking 
 out into the garden. At last Marguerite, frightened 
 by her deathlike color, rose and carried her with 
 gentle decision up to her own room. 
 
 " We are two unhappy women, dear," she said, 
 holding Jeanne s head against her breast. The girl 
 sat on her bed, leaning on Marguerite. 
 
 " You, too ? " murmured Jeanne. 
 
 " I am more miserable that you can be. First 
 because it is my own fault, and then ah ! my little 
 Jeanne, you are only a child. You think you know 
 what it is to love, but you do not know yet." 
 
 "Why is it your fault that you suffer?" 
 
 " Because I threw away love when it was mine." 
 
 " How did you do that ? " 
 
 " Listen ! My name is not de St. Brieuc. That
 
 2/2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 was my uncle s name, and when Tribert called 
 me by it, I did not take the trouble to correct him. 
 I am married and I lost my husband through my 
 own folly. We quarrelled one day and I would not 
 be reconciled. The next thing I knew he had gone 
 to the war." 
 
 " Have you never seen him since?" said Jeanne, 
 full of sympathy. 
 
 " Once we met. He treated me like a stranger." 
 
 " But if you love him why did you not tell him 
 so?" 
 
 "Ah, little Jeanne, because of shame and pride. 
 He does not care for me, and I love him." 
 
 After a long silence Jeanne spoke. " If Philip 
 should die, as Victor did, as my father, my mother 
 have done I should not want to live any longer. 
 If that is love or not at least it is all I know. Life 
 is too sad it seems to me 
 
 " Love is all there is in life worth having. Take it, 
 Jeanne, when it is offered and keep it when it is 
 yours."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 
 
 THE news of the arrest of the Archbishop of 
 Paris and of his Vicar-General spread like 
 wildfire through the city. The Faubourgs 
 rejoiced, the Madeleine Quarter trembled, the Latin 
 Quarter offered no protest, but cowered in dismay, 
 listening for the tread of the platoon and the terrible 
 summons : " In the name of the Commune ! " 
 
 At the Hotel de Ville the news was received with 
 yells of delight. 
 
 " The old wolf is trapped, now for the cubs ! " 
 cried Bergeret, and on the strength of this he added 
 another band of gold to his glittering sleeves. 
 
 Billioray sneered openly. " What a fuss they make 
 about one priest ; if they would shoot more and 
 talk less there would n t be a priest in the depart 
 ment." 
 
 " Then there would be nobody left to shoot," ob 
 jected Ferr. 
 
 " We can always shoot each other," remarked 
 Rochefort, cynically. 
 
 " What do you think Thiers will do ? " asked 
 Colonel Rossel, who did not join in the general 
 rejoicing. 
 
 " What he has always done so energetically, 
 
 18 
 
 273
 
 2/4 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 nothing ! " replied Assi ; then turning to Bergeret, 
 who sat examining himself in a small hand-mirror, 
 he cried : " Yes, there is one thing Thiers will do if 
 we let him. He will talk. His chatter wearies me. 
 I 11 stop it once for all ! " 
 
 "How?" demanded Bergeret. 
 
 Without replying Assi sat down and wrote rap 
 idly. Then he affixed the seals to the order and 
 handed it to Bergeret. It read as follows : 
 
 " Hotel de Ville, 4th April, 1871. 
 " Formal orders are given to cut instantly the 
 telegraph wires between Paris and Versailles. 
 (Signed) " Assi, 
 
 " Governor of the Hotel de Ville, 
 " Member of the Commune." 
 
 " Very good," said Bergeret, with a smirk ; " now 
 let me try my hand," and he seized an order blank 
 and wrote : 
 
 "General Headquarters, 4th April, 1871. 
 " MON COM MANDAlfT : Until further orders, the 
 Commune has decided that all trains shall be pre 
 vented from leaving Paris for Versailles. Enclosed 
 please find an order for the Chef de Gare of the 
 Ouest-Ceinture. 
 
 " Le General Commandant la Place. 
 (Signed) " JULES BERGERET." 
 
 Assi looked over his shoulder, nodding approval. 
 Bergeret found another sheet of paper and con 
 tinued :
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 2?$ 
 
 " Order of the Central Committee. 
 " Stop all trains coming toward Paris at the Ouest- 
 Ceinture. Place there an energetic man with troops, 
 day and night. At the arrival of each train, unless 
 the engineer stops at the signal, the orders require 
 that the train be derailed ! " 
 
 " Come here and sign this, Tribert," cried Ber- 
 geret to an officer in the uniform of a Chef de 
 Legion. 
 
 The man approached and, after writing " For the 
 Committee," signed his name, " Tribert, Command 
 ing the Legion." 
 
 " That will fix them," chuckled Assi, rubbing his 
 huge hands together and eying the barbarous or 
 der. It tickled him to think of the carnage which 
 the derailing of a train would produce. The crush 
 ing and mangling of innocent passengers would be 
 a spectacle worth seeing. 
 
 " It will be very droll," he explained to Tribert ; 
 " imagine all those bourgeoises dumped out like snails 
 in a pan ! " Tribert also saw the exquisite humor 
 of the thing and departed grinning, with his hands 
 full of orders, which he consigned to a Hussar of 
 Death at the gate below. The hussar dropped them 
 into his pouch and struck spurs into his cadaverous 
 horse, and Bergeret, watching him from a window, 
 smiled to himself and dusted the gold bands on his 
 sleeve. 
 
 As he sat picking at the gorgeous lace on his pe 
 lisse with the naive delight of a savage, three officers 
 in the full uniforms of Generals of the Commune
 
 2/6 THE RED REPUBLIC, 
 
 entered the cabinet and sat down beside him with 
 careless nods of recognition. The three were Eudes, 
 Duval, and Gustave Flourens. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen ! " burst out Flourens, in his 
 eager, impetuous manner, " the thing is decided for 
 to-morrow then ! " He turned to Duval, a small, 
 stern-featured man who had once been a worker in 
 metals, had been made an officer of the National 
 Guard during the siege, and, after the affair of the 
 cannon on the iSth of March, found himself sud 
 denly promoted to General. It savored, perhaps, 
 of the " Grand-Duchesse de Gerolstein," for Duval, 
 like Fritz in the opera, was promoted in five minutes 
 from a simple soldier to commander-in-chief. But, 
 of the four Generals of the Commune, Duval was 
 the only one who possessed military ability, except 
 Flourens, and the latter ruined what ability he pos 
 sessed by his fiery and headstrong impetuosity. 
 
 Eudes was hopelessly incompetent ; and Bergeret, 
 an ape with the vanity of a peacock and the ferocity 
 of a tiger, had no more knowledge of military affairs 
 than a volunteer colonel at Aldershot. 
 
 " Is it finally decided then for to-morrow?" re 
 peated Flourens, eagerly. 
 
 "Yes," snapped Duval, " to-morrow we move on 
 Versailles, and the troops will take up their posi 
 tions to-night, if possible. Bergeret, you have the 
 plan ? " 
 
 " Yes, General my own plan," replied Bergeret, 
 with a self-conscious smirk. He drew some papers 
 from the breast of his pelisse and spread them out 
 on his knees. Then with an affected gesture he 
 began to read :
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 
 
 " The Federal army will be divided into three 
 divisions. 
 
 " The first, commanded by General Bergeret, will 
 make an important demonstration on the Rueil 
 road. 
 
 " The second, under the orders of General Duval, 
 will advance through Bas-Meudon, Chaville, and 
 Viroflay. The Fort of Issy and the Redoute des 
 Moulineaux will protect them with their fire. 
 
 " The third, conducted by General Eudes, will 
 operate along the Clamart road, traversing Villa- 
 coublay and Velizy. This corps will be supported 
 by the Fort of Vanves 
 
 "Where the devil do I come in?" exclaimed 
 Flourens, angrily. 
 
 "You go with me," replied Bergeret, and smiled 
 complacently. 
 
 " Will there be fighting?" growled Flourens. 
 
 " Plenty, plenty," said Eudes ; " go on, General ; 
 what comes next? " 
 
 " Nothing more," said Bergeret, folding the papers. 
 " Is n t that simple enough ? The objective point 
 is Versailles ; the plan, without details, is this : First, 
 a diversion toward Mont-Valerien ; second, an attack 
 at Clamart ; third, flank movement by Bas-Meudon. 
 Is n t this simple, General Duval ? " 
 
 " D ned simple," muttered Duval, between his 
 teeth ; " what if Mont-Valerien fires on your col 
 umn? " 
 
 "It won t," replied Bergeret, with conviction ; " it s 
 held by the marine artillery, and they are for us." 
 
 " We ll take it if it fires," began Flourens, angrily 
 but was silenced bv a gesture from Duval,
 
 2/8 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Hark ! Was that a cannon-shot ? " 
 
 They all rose and crowded out to the balcony be 
 low the window. Again there came a deep, distant 
 boom, and the window panes vibrated. The four 
 generals of the Commune listened to the cannonade 
 with sparkling eyes. Paris, trembling before the 
 Central Committee, listened also to the sound of 
 the cannon, a sound which for months had shaken 
 the wretched city to its foundations. Was it to be 
 gin again ? Where were they fighting ? It was the 
 Fort of Issy, some said, which was firing on the 
 barricade at Meudon. 
 
 Behind the barricade which closed the rue Notre 
 Dame at the corner of the rue Vavin, the soldiers 
 of the 1st Paris Turcos were lounging over their 
 steaming camp-kettles when the echoes of the first 
 cannon-shot from the Fort of Issy floated into the 
 city on the April breeze. 
 
 Andre Sarre, in the full uniform of a colonel of 
 Turcos, was squatting on the top of the barricade 
 scowling at a letter which he held in his pudgy 
 hands. At the sound of the distant cannon-shot he 
 raised his head and his features resumed their nor 
 mal aspect, which, at first glance, seemed a merry 
 one. 
 
 " Tiens ! " he said, " Monsieur Thiers is beginning." 
 Then he looked at the letter in his hand and 
 scowled again. 
 
 A Turco, strolling near, began to sing a little song. 
 
 " On dira, quand il sera mort, 
 Pour glorifier sa memoire : 
 Ci-git celui qui vient encore 
 De delivrer la territoire ! "
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 279 
 
 This tickled Sarre, and he called the soldier to 
 him. 
 
 " My friend," he said, "where did you learn that 
 touching song? " 
 
 " Mon Colonel," replied the Turco, seriously, 
 " everybody is singing it." 
 
 " But Thiers is n t dead yet." 
 
 " He may be before long, mon Colonel." 
 
 " That would be too much happiness," said Sarre; 
 "look out ! your song will bring us bad luck. Good 
 luck is like game, when you sight it too far off, you 
 miss it. Don t cherish illusions! " 
 
 " Illusions are the daily bread of the unhappy, 
 mon Colonel." 
 
 Sarre pretended to misunderstand him. " D n 
 it ! " he cried, " don t you get enough to eat ? " 
 
 " Under the Commune we have food and liberty," 
 replied the soldier, with a grimace. 
 
 " Have you any complaint concerning the quality 
 of either ? " asked Sarre. 
 
 " The food is good," said the soldier, musingly. 
 
 "And the liberty?" 
 
 The soldier shrugged his shoulders. " Liberty is 
 the tyranny of the street with a Marseillaise accom 
 paniment," quoted the soldier. 
 
 " Upon my word," sneered Sarre, " a private sol 
 dier and such a philosopher ! Wonderful! Wonder 
 ful ! Now, my friend, you can go and exercise your 
 philosophy in splitting wood with the corvee. 
 About ! March ! " The soldier saluted and turned 
 quietly away to follow the corv6e which was 
 passing.
 
 28O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " I 11 fix you, my philosopher ! I 11 fix you, my 
 Plato!" 
 
 " Fix whom ? " enquired a captain, coming up and 
 barely touching his cap in salute. 
 
 " See here, Weser," said Sarre, turning on him 
 with a disagreeable smile, " you re getting too 
 damned familiar. Don t you know how to salute ? " 
 
 Weser muttered an apology and stole a glance at 
 his superior. 
 
 " I m a bit out of humor, Isidor," said Sarre with 
 affected heartiness, " don t mind ; you salute well 
 enough. I Ve just got a letter from Raoul Rigault. 
 He s lost his head since he turned Policeman Gen 
 eral. He s too cursed overbearing and insolent." 
 
 Weser saw through Sarre. " Oh," he thought, 
 " Sarre s had a row with Rigault and can t afford to 
 quarrel with his subordinate officers." Then he 
 said with insolent familiarity, " what s the trouble, 
 Andre?" 
 
 Sarre let his eyes rest for one second on Weser s 
 oily face, but his smile was very guileless, as he held 
 out the letter with a shrug. 
 
 Weser took it and read aloud : 
 
 "Order is given to the Citizen Colonel Sarre, temporarily com 
 manding the First Battalion of Paris Turcos, to turn over to the 
 Pre fet of Police all moneys, jewelry, objects of art, religious emblems, 
 and vestments, which were taken from churches, convents, and other 
 buildings inhabited or frequented by priests, Jesuits, or nuns, and 
 which were visited by the soldiers of the battalion commanded by 
 Colonel Sarre. (Signed) RAOUL RIGAULT, 
 
 "Prefet of Police." 
 
 Weser whistled, folded up the paper, handed it 
 back to Sarre, and whistled again.
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 28 1 
 
 " What do you think of that ? " demanded Sarre. 
 His features looked very placid, but the end of his 
 fat nose was white with rage, and his teeth clicked 
 together. 
 
 " Are you going to do it ?" asked Weser, softly. 
 
 Sarre snorted furiously. "If you can afford to 
 give up your share of course I can." 
 
 But I can t," said Weser, still more softly. 
 
 " Neither can I," said Sarre. 
 
 They looked at each other. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " We can send a few things," suggested Sarre. 
 
 " Yes a few." 
 
 " Everybody can contribute." 
 
 " Yes ; not too much." 
 
 " No, not too much." 
 
 " If we are questioned ? " 
 
 " We hang together." 
 
 " We hang together." 
 
 " C est entendu ? " 
 
 " Tope la ! " 
 
 They shook hands warily. 
 
 " I 11 see the others," observed Sarre ; then burst 
 ing into uncontrollable rage; " why can t he be sat 
 isfied with his own pickings ? They re rich enough ! 
 If he chooses he can loot the whole of the right 
 bank of the Seine ! " 
 
 " Including the Bank of France ! " said Weser, 
 with sparkling eyes. 
 
 Sarre grinned like a hyena. " We owe nothing to 
 Raoul Rigault, remember that ! "
 
 282 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " I 11 remember," said Weser, his black eyes glit 
 tering. 
 
 Sarre scrambled heavily down from the top of the 
 barricade and stood irresolutely, his hands clasped 
 behind his broad back. 
 
 " He s thinking he s said too much," mused 
 Weser. " He s wrong, the fat fox! I can t afford 
 to give up my pile for the sake of pushing him to a 
 wall. Then he spoke aloud : " What was the firing? 
 Is Thiers beginning the music ? " 
 
 " Probably," said Sarre, carelessly. 
 
 " Then we will go to the front ? " 
 
 " Probably," yawned Sarre. 
 
 Weser, who had no stomach for fighting, fidgeted 
 about until the heavy report of a cannon from the 
 nearer fortifications aroused the whole garrison of 
 the barricade. Weser turned a little pale and stood 
 stock-still. 
 
 " Hey ! " exclaimed Sarre, laughing, " that sounds 
 like business ! " 
 
 As he spoke, there came a furious clatter of hoofs 
 from the rue Vavin, and a Hussar of Death whirled 
 up the street and threw his horse back on his 
 haunches before the barricade. 
 
 " Marching orders or I m a Prussian ! " cried Sarre, 
 taking a packet from the hussar ; " yes we start at 
 five it s half-past four now. I m d n glad of it ! 
 Weser, order them to sound the assembly ! Tell 
 Captain Pagot to remain with the third company as 
 garrison. Where s my ordnance ? Tell the buglers 
 to sound, Captain Weser." 
 
 " Idiot," muttered Weser, walking slowly toward
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 283 
 
 the camp," why could n t he let me stay with my com 
 pany ? Pagot always gets the plums. Sarre s a fool, 
 bullets don t scare him, the leather-headed turtle ! " 
 
 He moved aside to allow a file of soldiers to pass, 
 who, with fixed bayonets, were conducting some 
 prisoners toward the barricade ; then he resumed his 
 course, cursing his luck and his colonel. 
 
 Sarre was in excellent humor again. The bugles 
 were blowing from the camp, the drums crashed out 
 along the rue Bara, and five hundred soldiers tumbled 
 over each other in the hurry and excitement of de 
 parture. Sarre beamed, delighted, rubbing his fat 
 hands together and smoking an expensive cigar. 
 The file of soldiers who were conducting the prison 
 ers passed him, and he called merrily to the corporal 
 of the guard to halt. 
 
 " What pretty fish have we here ? " he asked, walk 
 ing up to the little convoy. 
 
 " Prisoners," replied the corporal, briefly, and 
 saluted as an after-thought. 
 
 " Ah ! Ah ! " smiled Sarre, in great good-humor; 
 " what is this woman here for? " 
 
 " Received secret letters from Versailles," said the 
 corporal. 
 
 "Bah! That s Rigault s affair, let her go!" The 
 prisoner, a thin-faced, white-haired woman, dressed 
 in heavy mourning, bowed her thanks silently and 
 hurried away through the rue Vavin. 
 
 " One on Rigault, the pig-headed ass ! " thought 
 Sarre, delighted at being able to disoblige the Pr- 
 fet. Then he turned to the next prisoner, a young 
 man, who returned his glance boldly.
 
 284 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Who are you ? " 
 
 "Alexandra Ouvrard." 
 
 " What have you done ? " 
 
 The young man looked at him without answering. 
 
 " Speak, you fool ! " 
 
 " He deserted from Franchetti s Scouts to Ver 
 sailles," said the corporal. 
 
 "Oh, you did, did you?" sneered Sarre, twirling 
 his revolver over his thumb ; is n t the Commune 
 good enough for you ? Well, if you re too fine for 
 this world get out ! " and he levelled his revolver 
 and fired twice at the deserter s heart. " Take him 
 away," said Sarre, coolly, with a glance at the quiv 
 ering, blood-spattered body which had tumbled un 
 der the wall of the barricade. Then he replaced his 
 revolver in its holster and examined the other pris 
 oners. There were two of them, both soldiers of 
 the Line, and he smiled as he noted their uniform. 
 
 " How is my friend, Monsieur Thiers? " he asked 
 them, with a cold smile. 
 
 " In excellent health, to hang you when he s 
 ready," replied one of the soldiers, contemptuously. 
 
 Sarre threw back his bullet head and laughed until 
 the tears ran down his face. " He is delightful, that 
 one there ! " he cried ; " only listen ! Oh my ! Oh my ! " 
 
 The prisoner s face darkened. 
 
 " Murderer ! " he said between his teeth. Sarre 
 burst into a fresh peal of laughter. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " he gasped ; " this piou-piou is so 
 original. Take good care of him very good care. 
 Give him a nice large house to live in let me see 
 I think Mazas would be large enough. The other
 
 A NEW JRECRUIT. 285 
 
 one too the little fellow who seems frightened, 
 give him a nice apartment in Mazas also. Don t let 
 them over-eat or over-exercise. Is that all ? " 
 
 " There is another prisoner," said the corporal, 
 with a shuddering glance at the murdered deserter 
 whom two men had tossed into a stretcher and were 
 carrying out across the rue Vavin. 
 
 " Bring him here, corporal, and you," turning to 
 the guard, "take these friends of mine to the Mazas 
 Prison ! " 
 
 The platoon moved out into the rue Vavin, and 
 the corporal went away to bring up the remaining 
 prisoner. 
 
 Sarre picked up a handful of hay and rubbed some 
 blood spots from the toes of his boots. When the 
 corporal returned with the last prisoner, Sarre was 
 still at his toilet, but he raised his head and exam 
 ined the man who stood motionless in front of him. 
 Then he drew his revolver again and cocked it. 
 
 "You can go," he said to the corporal, who had 
 turned quite white. The soldier left with a hasty 
 salute and Sarre stood alone with the prisoner. 
 
 " Stand against that wall," he said. 
 
 The young man walked over to the barricade and 
 faced Sarre. The latter raised his revolver ; the 
 prisoner uttered an exclamation and shut his eyes. 
 
 " Tiens ! " said Sarre, tranquilly ; " I thought I d 
 make him jump." He smiled at the prisoner, who 
 still held his eyes closed convulsively. Then he low 
 ered the revolver. 
 
 " For God s sake shoot ! " groaned the young man, 
 hoarsely, " don t torture me, Sarre ! "
 
 286 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Look up, my friend," said Sarre, " you re not 
 dead yet ! " 
 
 The prisoner gasped and opened his eyes. 
 
 " You don t seem anxious to die, Monsieur 
 Landes," sneered Sarre. 
 
 Philip stared at him, his face ghastly, his eyes 
 bloodshot and dim with horror. 
 
 " Pooh," continued Sarre, cocking and uncocking 
 his revolver, " what is death ? Nothing to be afraid 
 of, mon ami. Death is but sleep, and sleep but an 
 entre-act in the comedy of life." 
 
 Philip neither moved nor spoke. 
 
 " Lost your tongue ? Frightened ? " 
 
 " You lie ! " said Philip, in a scarcely audible voice. 
 
 " No I don t," replied Sarre, tranquilly ; " you are 
 frightened almost speechless. Voyons, admit it ! " 
 
 Philip was silent, but his eyes grew clearer and a 
 flush tinged his temples. 
 
 "And now," continued Sarre, "you are getting 
 over your fright and are ready to die like a brave 
 man, eh ? Oh, I can see, I m not a mole. What 
 do you think I am going to do with you ? " 
 
 " I think you will shoot me," replied Philip. His 
 voice was coming back again. 
 
 " What s the reward for you, dead or alive ? " 
 
 " A thousand francs." 
 
 " Is that all?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "And," continued Sarre, "you think I d kill a 
 man for that ?" 
 
 " I m d n sure you would ! For God s sake fire 
 and finish it ! " The cold sweat rolled down his face.
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 287 
 
 Sarre deliberately raised his revolver and pulled 
 the trigger. The hammer fell with a metallic clink. 
 Again he snapped the weapon, and the same sharp 
 ring followed. With a vile oath he threw open the 
 breech of the revolver and jerked back the ejector. 
 Two loaded cartridges and an empty shell flew out, 
 and he picked one of them up and glanced at the 
 primer. Then with a short laugh he tossed it to 
 Philip s feet. "You re in luck," he chuckled ; " the 
 hammer hit it fair and square. I 11 report these 
 A~3. cartridges." 
 
 Philip leaned against the wall. He looked very 
 white and weak and his eyes were two shadowy 
 hollows. 
 
 "You re in luck, I tell you," repeated Sarre, clos 
 ing his revolver and jamming it into the holster. 
 "Now I m glad I did n t kill you, do you know? 
 Why, it would have been a shame. I can get lots 
 of amusement out of you yet. Do you think I want 
 that reward ? No, my friend. Oh, I m very glad 
 those cartridges hung fire. I missed doing that hog 
 Rigault a favor. What a fool I was, what a fool ! " 
 
 He glanced over his shoulder toward the rue Bara, 
 where, the 1st Turcos were forming in heavy march 
 ing order. Then he looked at Philip and grinned. 
 " Did you strike, Raoul Rigault ? Is it true ? " 
 
 " It s true," said Philip, with an effort. " What a 
 fiend you are, Andre Sarre ! " 
 
 " Now you re mistaken, perhaps," protested Sarre, 
 leering at him. " Did you strike him hard, hard, - 
 and in the face ? " 
 
 Philip nodded with an apathetic stare.
 
 288 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Sarre chuckled. " I heard you did. What a 
 shame to shoot a man like you. You may kill him 
 some day, this Policeman General Rigault, eh?" 
 
 " If I live," said Philip. 
 
 "And me too, perhaps?" laughed Sarre. 
 
 Philip did not answer. 
 
 " Landes," said Sarre, abruptly, " I give you your 
 life." 
 
 Philip s face reddened and his chest heaved, but 
 he only said, " on what condition ? 
 
 " Now bless my soul ! " laughed Sarre, " what an 
 intelligent young man ! What a shame to have 
 blown a hole in him!" Then he added seriously ; 
 "the conditions are that you kill Raoul Rigault " 
 
 " I refuse. I m no assassin." 
 
 " But," sneered Sarre, " you just said 
 
 " What I do I 11 do on my own account," said 
 Philip, with a desperate gleam in his eyes. " I 11 
 make no condition concerning Rigault." 
 
 Sarre eyed him narrowly. Then with a shrug; 
 " I m satisfied. The other condition is that you 
 join the ranks." 
 
 "What ranks?" 
 
 " These the 1st Turcos." 
 
 " What ? You know I d desert ! " 
 
 " Oh, I 11 attend to that," observed Sarre ; " do 
 you accept ? " 
 
 "And if I do not?" 
 
 Sarre called to an officer and asked him for his 
 revolver. The officer handed it to him with a keen 
 glance at Philip. " What cartridges do you carry?" 
 demanded Sarre.
 
 A NEW RECRUIT. 289 
 
 "B-3 new model," replied the officer. 
 
 " How many defective in a thousand rounds?" 
 
 " None." 
 
 Sarre turned with a smile to Philip. "Well, 
 Monsieur, will you join the ist Turcos?" 
 
 " Yes," said Landes, without hesitation. 
 
 "I congratulate you," laughed Sarre; "here, 
 sergeant, take this new recruit to the depot and give 
 him his uniform and equipment. Assign him to the 
 First company, Captain Cartier. Tell Captain Cartier 
 I want to see him. If this conscript hesitates in his 
 duty, shoot him without further orders, and instruct 
 the company in that respect. Hurry we march in 
 ten minutes ! " 
 
 Weser came up at that moment to report his 
 company ready. He stared in astonishment at 
 Landes, who was following the sergeant across the 
 square, but Sarre, chuckling and rubbing his hands 
 gave him a brief outline of what had passed, and 
 Weser nodded approval. 
 
 " You see," said Sarre, " I 11 keep him well 
 guarded, and when we strike the Versaillists I 11 
 shove him to the front. If he s shot, we have his 
 body, and Rigault must pay up. If he s not shot, 
 we will have all the fun and then turn him over to 
 our friend the Prefet, when we get ready ! " 
 
 " In the meantime we can find where he has the 
 diamonds," suggested Weser, with a cunning smile. 
 
 " Izzy, you re a treasure ! " cried Sarre. " What 
 a fool I should have been to shoot him so soon ! " 
 
 Then the drums rolled through the rue Notre 
 Dame, the shrill fantastic bugle notes echoed from
 
 2QO THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 square to square, and Sarre, climbing laboriously 
 into the saddle of a huge grey horse, drew his sword. 
 "Forward!" he bawled, and the 1st battalion of 
 Paris Turcos swung out of the rue Notre Dame.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 
 
 DAYLIGHT was fading in the room ; the 
 blackbird whistled fitfully, cocking his 
 bright eye at the setting sun, and swallows 
 soared and sailed above the chimney pots. From 
 the garden below came the clank of Ellice s spade 
 on the gravel, followed by retreating footsteps ; then 
 the studio door opened and shut and all was quiet. 
 
 A wandering evening breeze moved the curtains 
 and touched the curls on Jeanne s white forehead. 
 She lay on the bed, her head on Marguerite s breast, 
 her eyes fixed on the dim light which faded and 
 faded from the window panes. Above the chimneys 
 opposite, the sky was still blue, but it changed, 
 gradually, to palest green and then was hidden in a 
 mass of gold-flecked clouds. Little by little the 
 clouds deepened until they glowed like dying coals. 
 
 " God keep my husband !" sobbed Marguerite. 
 
 " God keep Philip ! " whispered Jeanne. 
 
 Then from the north came a deep peal of thunder. 
 Jeanne sprang to her feet, her hand pressed to her 
 throat, her dry lips parted. Again the thunder 
 boomed and the rising night wind bore its rumbling 
 far into the city. The window panes were still shak-
 
 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 ing as Marguerite crept to the sill and looked out. 
 Far on the horizon the coming night advanced, 
 shrouded in pale mist. In the vaguer blue above, a 
 star sparkled. And now from the north the sound 
 of the cannon grew, increasing like the thunder of an 
 ocean pounding soft sand. 
 
 " Cannon ! " whispered Marguerite. 
 
 " Cannon ! " whispered Jeanne. 
 
 In the street below a stern voice cried and a 
 bugle clanged. Louder and louder rattled the 
 drums, while the bugles chimed harsh chorus and 
 the hum of departure swelled to a roar. Once a 
 sharp report rang out through the tumult of the 
 drums, and Jeanne glanced anxiously at Marguerite. 
 
 " A shot ! " she said ; " what can it mean ? " 
 
 " It means war, my darling, war and death ! " and 
 the two women crept closer together. 
 
 " Hark ! " whispered Marguerite, " someone is 
 calling." 
 
 It was Ellice, standing, pale and excited, in the 
 studio below, and they hurried down the stairs to 
 meet him. 
 
 " Joseph says the Federals are marching out of 
 the barricade by the rue Vavin. If they leave no 
 guard I think we had better try again for the Ameri 
 can Minister s." 
 
 Joseph entered hurriedly. " It is as I feared," he 
 said ; " they leave a company to garrison the barri 
 cade." Ellice looked blank. Jeanne went and 
 looked up in Joseph s face. Her voice was very 
 gentle, but her lips trembled. 
 
 " What was that shot ? " she asked. 
 
 " They murdered a poor devil "
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 293 
 
 " Who was it do you know ? " 
 
 Joseph understood. He said, looking down at 
 her like a father: " Mademoiselle, it was a deserter 
 named Ouvrard. The sentinel in front of the con 
 vent told me so." 
 
 Ellice, who was walking up and down, suddenly 
 blurted out : " I wish to Heaven Philip would come 
 back ! It s nearly dark." 
 
 " Perhaps he is waiting for the night before he 
 returns," said Marguerite. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " asked Jeanne, piteously. 
 
 " He said he d be back by night," insisted Ellice, 
 with querulous persistence. 
 
 " It is not night yet," said Marguerite, quietly. 
 
 Something in her voice made Ellice stop and look 
 at her. Then he went and sat down by the fire. 
 " I m making a precious ass of myself," he sighed; 
 " I must brace up! Of course," he said aloud in a 
 cheery voice, " it s not yet dark, and anyway he 
 may have been detained. Oh, he s all right he s 
 well disguised, and he is too wise to run risks." 
 
 " I am sure he is safe," said Marguerite, calmly, 
 and gave Ellice a grateful glance which sent him 
 into his state of trance for the next ten minutes. 
 
 Joseph flitted in and out, setting the table for 
 dinner, and Jeanne watched with a heavy heart 
 while he laid a place for Philip. 
 
 " They say," said Joseph, " that the Archbishop 
 of Paris has been arrested to-day, along with the 
 Abbe Lagarde, his Vicar-General." 
 
 "That is certainly a lie," cried Ellice, reassuring 
 the horrified girls with a smile. " Fancy them daring 
 to touch the Archbishop "
 
 294 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " It s what they are saying at the barricade," 
 growled Joseph. " I thought it was a lie myself. 
 And they say, too, that part of this queer Turco bat 
 talion have been looting churches this morning, and 
 have arrested eighty priests and sent them to Mazas." 
 
 " Pure invention," said Ellice, confidently. 
 
 " It must be," said Marguerite, watching Jeanne s 
 shocked face. 
 
 " That s all the news I heard, except that the Fort 
 of Issy fired at the Versailles batteries near Meudon, 
 and there is going to be a sortie to-morrow. The 
 Turcos are to march with Bergeret s column 
 
 "Was that the bombardment we just heard?" 
 asked Jeanne. 
 
 " We could not hear the Fort of Issy," said Ellice, 
 with a desperate attempt to keep conversation go 
 ing ; " it must have come from the big marine can 
 non by the Point du Jour." 
 
 Nobody spoke for some minutes, and it was a 
 relief to hear Joseph rattle the knives and forks as 
 he laid each cover with elaborate care. 
 
 The cannonade had ceased, the stars shone 
 through the glass roof of the outer studio, and 
 a cricket chirped from the garden. Through the 
 budding branches of the chestnut tree the new 
 moon peeped, a thin, misty crescent. 
 
 Jeanne raised her eyes and saw it. There it glim 
 mered, a narrow band of light among the branches, 
 and a sudden flood of childish memories filled her 
 with tenderness and love. Very innocently she 
 thought : " The new moon is over my right shoul 
 der; I will wish for Philip s return." With her eyes
 
 WITH THE A D FLAG. 
 
 on the new moon she repeated her wish, unconscious 
 of her childishness. She wondered if Philip was 
 looking at it, wherever he was, and thinking of her. 
 She wondered and wondered, and dreamed and 
 dreamed, until a movement from Marguerite brought 
 her back to earth and she remembered. Then she 
 prayed for him wherever he might be, and her heart 
 seemed bursting with its weight of sorrow. 
 
 And the man she prayed for, at that same mo 
 ment, stood on a bastion of the fortifications and 
 prayed for her with all the strength of his love and 
 passion ; and as he prayed, he raised his eyes and 
 saw the new moon shining in the sky. 
 
 "God help her! " he muttered, looking out across 
 the shadowy city, where the twin towers of Notre 
 Dame loomed gigantic in the twilight. Then he 
 turned to the north. Far on the horizon the Fort 
 of Issy thundered, and the brooding clouds caught 
 the dull reflection of the flashes. From the great 
 bastion on the fortifications, the country, sheeted in 
 thin mist, stretched away to the uplands of Ver 
 sailles, where thousands of little points of light 
 twinkled the camp fires of the loyal army. Farther 
 along, the wooded heights of Meudon sloped gently 
 toward the west, where, through a notch in the hills, 
 the starlight glimmered on the waters of the Seine. 
 As he looked, a column of flame poured from be 
 neath the arches of the viaduct by the Point du 
 Jour, and the shock of an explosion shook the 
 granite redoubt. 
 
 " That," said somebody near him, " is the cannon 
 on the gunboat Farcy. "
 
 296 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 He caught a glimpse of a black-hulled craft creep- 
 ing from under the viaduct, but the banks of the 
 Seine hid her again. Twice, as he strained his eyes, 
 the huge gun in her bow flashed in the gloom and 
 the echoes crashed among the vibrating arches of the 
 bridge. 
 
 On the heights of St. Cloud lights were moving in 
 sweeps and circles, and after a while he realized that 
 they were signals, but could not read them. An 
 artillery officer standing on the breastworks to his 
 right, night-glasses poised, was reporting the signals 
 to a gunner, who sat with a lantern on his knees, 
 jotting them down. 
 
 " Seven, one ! " cried the officer, in a monotonous, 
 singsong voice. 
 
 " Seven, one ! " repeated the gunner. 
 
 " Seven, sixteen, seven, one, five, nine, seventeen, 
 one ! " cried the officer, and the gunner repeated the 
 numbers, writing each one as he called it. 
 
 " Why don t they send that signal officer up here, 
 he might solve their cipher," observed a lieutenant 
 of Turcos who stood, tablets in hand, looking over 
 the messages as they were handed him by the 
 gunner. 
 
 " Seven, six, seven, eleven, nine notice how often 
 the seven occurs, Lieutenant ! one, seven, ten, one, 
 seven. They re using colored lights green, three ; 
 red, two ; blue, seven ; green, one ; blue, seven note 
 that ! red, one ; yellow, six 
 
 Philip listened wearily to the singsong voice until 
 three rockets cleft the horizon from the Vanves fort, 
 and a cannon flashed from the Clamart battery.
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 297 
 
 Then far down the river the huge gun on the 
 " Farcy " bellowed, and the fort of Issy replied. It 
 was the parting shot of the night. One by one the 
 signal lights faded from the heights, the cannonade 
 died away, and a hush fell over land and river. 
 
 Philip stood looking at the fire near him, where, 
 wrapped in their white cloaks, his comrades sprawled, 
 talking together in low tones. The lines of camp 
 fires stretched in curves along the fortifications, cast 
 ing strange shadows over angle and glacis, flashing 
 on the polished breeches of ponderous siege guns, 
 and sending showers of sparks into the black sky. 
 The smoke blew in his eyes ; he rubbed them with 
 the sleeves of his Turco jacket, and the bell buttons 
 on the embroidered arabesques jingled. He was 
 clothed in the full uniform of a private in the 1st 
 Turcos. On his head he wore the scarlet fez with 
 the blue tassel, his legs were hidden by white canvas 
 gaiters, and his body was covered with a turquoise- 
 blue jacket and zouave trousers. A sabre-bayonet- 
 sheath dangled from a leather belt, clasped over the 
 scarlet body scarf, and from this belt also hung a 
 cartridge-box and a rubber water bottle covered with 
 blue cloth. 
 
 He glanced across the fire at the sentinel who 
 moved silently among the pyramids of stacked rifles 
 and knapsacks. His o\vn rifle was there; he could 
 see it, locked among four others. Battle flags, furled 
 and sheathed, lay across the clustered bayonets, and 
 a few feet beyond, a pile of drums glistened in the 
 firelight. Beside these drums stood a group of offi 
 cers enveloped in their long cloaks. They were
 
 298 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 smoking, and conversing in whispers, but they all 
 seemed to be in good humor, judging from the low 
 chuckles which now and then escaped. Philip recog 
 nized Sarre and Weser and his own captain, Cartier, 
 a mild-eyed young man who loved fighting with the 
 passion of a bull terrier. After a while he saw Sarre 
 move away, followed by Weser and others whom he 
 did not know. With many good-nights and jaunty 
 salutes the group broke up, Sarre and his familiars 
 moving down to the quarters near the bomb-proof 
 below, Cartier and the other captains strolling across 
 the parade toward a rudely constructed shanty where 
 a lantern hung, shedding its rays over two tables. 
 Soon the faint clink of bottles and glasses indicated 
 their occupation, and Philip saw casks of beer and 
 wine rolled toward the Colonel s quarters behind the 
 bomb-proof. 
 
 As he stood, wondering how it all would end, a 
 soldier, wrapped in his white cloak, rolled over and 
 sat up on the ground in front of the camp fire next 
 to his, and Philip started as he heard him say, in 
 perfectly good English : " For G-d s sake give me a 
 chew, Con Daily." 
 
 " Divil a wan have I," answered a voice from the 
 depths of a military cloak on the other side of the 
 fire. 
 
 " Then give me a cigarette," persisted the first 
 speaker, yawning and stretching. " Wake up, man ; 
 you ve time to sleep after taps. And you too, Red, 
 sit up, you lazy devil ! " He shook a soldier who was 
 lying before the fire, his chin on his hands, and who 
 responded : " Aw, what t hell ! "
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 299 
 
 "Con Daily," repeated the soldier, "chuck me a 
 cigarette, will you ?" 
 
 " Now, do I shmoke thim at all, at all ! " grumbled 
 Daily, without moving. " Ask Red McGlone ; he 
 has some plug." 
 
 " And Red McGlone keeps his plug ; mind that, 
 Con Daily ! " put in a red-headed young man with 
 well developed under jaw and a tired eye. He 
 added, apparently as an after-thought : " What t 
 hell ! " 
 
 "What the hell, is it?" said Daily, sitting up; 
 " an me lendin ye the loan av me pipe 
 
 " Who s got yer pipe ? " demanded McGlone. 
 
 "Me pipe? Ye have me pipe, ye murtherin 
 divil ! Gimme me pipe now! " 
 
 " Charlie," drawled McGlone, " have I got his 
 pipe ? " 
 
 "I ll have me pipe," persisted Daily, angrily; 
 " Charlie McBarron, ye seen me give it un 
 
 " Shut up, Con," said McBarron ; " I have your 
 pipe all safe enough, but I have n t a d d thing to 
 put in it." McGlone slowly produced a plug of to 
 bacco from the mysterious depths of his zouave 
 trousers and handed it to McBarron, who chipped off 
 enough for his pipe and passed it back. 
 
 " I 11 take a chew, Red, me b y," suggested Daily, 
 and McGlone tossed over the plug, from which the 
 Irishman gnawed a piece and tossed it back across 
 the fire. Red picked it up, thoughtfully chewed off 
 a mouthful, rolled it into some cavern in his bull 
 dog jaw, and slowly pushed the remainder into the 
 depths of his trousers.
 
 300 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " When that s gone you 11 have to come to cigar 
 ettes again, Con Daily," said McBarron. 
 
 " Will I now," snorted Daily. 
 
 " Yer gettin to look like a frog-eating Mounseer, 
 Daily," said McGlone, sending a thin stream of 
 tobacco juice into the fire. The hiss of the saliva in 
 the coals aroused another Turco, a Frenchman, who 
 protested. 
 
 " Aw, dry up r I 11 sma-a-sh yer in the jaw," 
 drawled McGlone, with a contemptuous shot at the 
 fire again. 
 
 McBarron calmed the frenzied Frenchman and 
 sternly told McGlone to be careful. "We want no 
 more fights now," he said, "you 11 get your bellyful 
 to-morrow at Clamart." 
 
 " Can t I spit ? what t hell ! " demanded Red. 
 
 "You hear me," repeated McBarron. McGlone 
 glared at the Frenchman, who glared at him. 
 
 " Assez nom de Dieu ! " growled Daily ; " let him 
 be, Red McGlone, ye bull-necked scrapper ; voyons, 
 un peu de complaisance, mes camarades ? Ne crache 
 pas comme un voyou, Red, me lad, what the divil 
 should ye worrit the frog-eater fur, I dunno ! " 
 
 " If you do that again I 11 help the Frenchman 
 punch your head," added McBarron. 
 
 " What t hell ! " yawned McGlone, " je ne crach 
 ploo, esker say bieng mantinong, you monkey-faced 
 snail-eating " 
 
 " Shut up, Red, can t you see he s satisfied. 
 Don t spoil it, do you hear ? " said McBarron, angrily. 
 
 The Frenchman lay down again and covered his 
 head with his blanket. McGlone ostentatiously ex-
 
 WITH THE KED FLAG. 30! 
 
 pectorated upon the ground, leered at the fire, and 
 observed : " Aw, the regiment makes me tired, see?" 
 
 " T is a sthrange rigimint, sure," mused Daily. 
 
 " Bum ! " said McGlone, sulkily. 
 
 " The biggest lot of cutthroats that ever marched," 
 said McBarron, " except Billy Wilson s Zouaves 
 
 " I was there," said Daily, angrily. 
 
 "So was Red McGlone," sneered McBarron; 
 "both of you marched with Billy Wilson, and a 
 bigger lot of rascals never left New York City ! " 
 
 " Do ye refer to me? " cried Daily. 
 
 " Aw, dry up," snarled McGlone, " I m goin 
 to sleep ; what t hell ! Yer a goat-faced bum, 
 Con Daily, and yer know it." 
 
 Daily looked around for a brick ; seeing none, he 
 started to his feet, his mouth open, but as he was on 
 the point of emitting a yell of defiance, the bugles 
 sang out " taps," and a group of officers passed with 
 a guard and lanterns. Philip crept into the circle of 
 firelight and drew his cloak well about him. Before 
 he could find a place a hand fell on his shoulder and 
 a sentinel pointed to the next camp fire. 
 
 " That is your squad," he said sharply ; " go ! " 
 
 When at last he lay, swathed in his mantle, before 
 the fire, he looked up into the starry vault above 
 and his heart sank. What was to be the end of all 
 this? Could it be possible that he, Philip Landes, 
 was a soldier of the Commune? 
 
 The bell buttons on his embroidered sleeves tinkled 
 with every movement as he lay there shivering and 
 crushing his clenched fists over his face. The fire 
 flared and crackled and the smoke blew in gusts
 
 302 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 across his head. He could hear Con Daily, at the 
 next fire, still muttering threats, while McBarron 
 soothed him in whispers, and Red McGlone snored. 
 When he first heard the familiar sound of his own 
 language he had felt for a moment comforted and 
 anxiously hopeful, but now, the ruffians at the next 
 fire seemed more distant and foreign to him than 
 the worst ragamuffin in the battalion. The whole 
 thing resembled an awful nightmare, his escape 
 from the claws of Raoul Rigault, his arrest in the 
 Passage Stanislas just as he had started to climb the 
 wall, his frightful experience with Sarre, and his 
 hasty march through the black city where insurgent 
 thousands lined the streets, howling and cheering 
 for anarchy and the Commune. 
 
 The death of Georgias, murderer and robber 
 though he was, also affected him strangely. Even 
 when he had stood with eyes closed before Sarre s 
 revolver, trying to pray, trying to think of Jeanne, 
 a vision of Georgias flashed before him, lying as he 
 had seen him, a tumbled heap of clothes in a widen 
 ing pool of blood. In his ears rang a voice : " Ven 
 geance is mine ! " and he clasped his trembling fingers 
 over his ears and cowered under the blanket, while the 
 terrible voice repeated : " I will repay ! I will repay ! " 
 
 When at length he fell into a troubled slumber, 
 the voice ceased and only a distant tumult came to his 
 ears. He dreamed fitfully now of the garden where 
 the fountain rippled under the lilacs, now of the white 
 face of the old Archbishop, now of rivers and rivers of 
 splendid diamonds which caught him up carried him 
 away, away to a sparkling sea. Then he dreamed
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 303 
 
 that the blackbird was singing in the almond tree, 
 and he saw Jeanne come out on the doorstep, hold 
 ing Tcherka in her arms. He strove to speak, but 
 could not. How loud the blackbird was singing, 
 how strong, how piercing! He started up. The 
 bugles were clanging a frenzied summons, the stars 
 sparkled in the depths of a fathomless black zenith, 
 and from the reviving embers of the camp fires came 
 the stench of simmering soup. All about him sleepy 
 soldiers stumbled to their feet, and stumped away 
 in the darkness where a dark line was forming, and 
 figures passed to and fro with scores of swinging 
 lanterns. 
 
 " Come ! " cried somebody beside him, and he rose 
 and hobbled after the others. Sarre, in a fiendish 
 temper, passed him, followed by his staff, and far 
 into the darkness of the early morning Philip heard 
 him cursing his Maker. When the roll was called 
 he answered to his name, and followed the corvee to 
 where a bundle of axes lay in the shelter of an em 
 bankment. The wood was oak and beech, but the 
 exercise did him good, and after the smoke-begrimed 
 pots were lifted from the fires, he drank his soup 
 with the rest. 
 
 It was not yet daylight when the battalion swung 
 through the gate of the fortifications and marched 
 out into the open country. The air was cold and 
 fresh and sweet, but there was no wind across the 
 shadowy plain where the shredded mist still lingered 
 in filmy streamers. 
 
 Philip marched in the first company. Just ahead 
 of him the drummers and buglers plodded along in
 
 304 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 silence. Ahead of them he could see the vague 
 forms of mounted men and hear the sharp stroke of 
 steel-shod hoofs where Sarre and his staff, who had 
 ridden on, were picking their way along the crowded 
 military road. They halted frequently and other 
 regiments passed them. Sometimes it was a battery 
 of cannon, creaking and bumping, the horses strain 
 ing under the heavy harness, the gunners clinging to 
 the iron railings on the caissons ; sometimes a turbu 
 lent battalion of National Guard infantry ; some 
 times a column of Garibaldians, red-shirted, bearded, 
 and swarthy. Once a ghostly troop of horse rode 
 by with muffled hoof-beats, the gaunt riders shrouded 
 in their long mantles, knots of crepe drooping on 
 their shoulders. Even the ruffianly Turcos shrank 
 back as the grim troop trampled past, for the Hussars 
 of Death seemed to taint the morning air with the 
 odor of death and decay. 
 
 Morning was breaking and still the troops poured 
 along the military road toward the wooded heights 
 beyond, which now loomed up black and mysterious 
 against the paling horizon. 
 
 It was four o clock in the morning when the bat 
 talion entered the Rond-Point of Courbevoie, evacu 
 ated a few hours before by the Versailles troops. 
 Philip saw that the village was occupied by masses 
 of Federal infantry and artillery. As he stood at 
 ease, leaning upon his rifle, he heard McBarron say 
 in English to one of his companions, that the artil 
 lery was " rotten." It certainly did look forlorn, 
 although there were guns enough for an army twice 
 their strength. The cannon were of all sizes, shapes,
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 305 
 
 and calibres, and were drawn by horses hastily seized 
 from omnibuses and cabs. Behind the cannon, long 
 files of wagons, furniture vans, bakers carts, and in 
 fact types of every vehicle to be found in Paris, 
 stretched away toward the route de Rueil. These 
 were filled with provisions and arms. An omnibus 
 bearing the sign " Batignolles-Clichy-Odeon " rum 
 bled past loaded down with cases of cartridges and 
 casks of powder. 
 
 " Correspondence, si l vous plait ! " cried an irre 
 pressible Turco, " I am going to the Hotel de Ville 
 to see my mother-in-law." This put the battalion 
 into good humor. 
 
 " Is there a place outside for a poor orphan ? " 
 shouted a soldier. 
 
 " No," bellowed a National Guard, " Monsieur 
 Thiers has reserved the Imperial ! " The officers 
 passed along the front laughing, and the troops 
 began to sing : 
 
 " Petit bonhomme vit encore, 
 Mais ! Mais ! Ma-a-is ! " 
 
 Philip watched the " marine " artillerymen labor 
 ing with their huge pieces which they had started 
 with two days before and only now were placing in 
 battery. Suddenly a cheering broke out across the 
 river where the right wing of the army rested, and 
 in a few minutes an uncovered carriage, drawn by 
 two horses, traversed the Avenue de Neuilly. 
 
 " Bergeret ! " cried Sarre ; " Attention ! Present 
 arms ! " 
 
 It was Bergeret. Glittering like an aurora borealis
 
 306 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 in his gaudy uniform, he lounged back in his carriage 
 smoking a cigarette, insolently returning the salutes 
 of the regimental commanders. His carriage, pre 
 ceded by a Turco who acted as ordonnance, and 
 followed by a gorgeous staff, pulled up in the centre 
 of the square. Bergeret rose in his carriage, turned 
 dramatically toward Versailles, and lifted his hand. 
 It was the signal. The drums beat, the bugles 
 sounded, and an immense clamor arose : " A Ver 
 sailles ! a Versailles ! " 
 
 Bergeret in his carriage, surrounded by twelve 
 cannon, led the column ; behind crowded three 
 battalions of the National Guard, the 24th, the I28th, 
 and the i88th, cheering madly. Then came the 
 1st Battalion of Paris Turcos, Colonel Sarre, march 
 ing well and singing at the top of their voices : 
 
 " Voici le sabre ! 
 le sabre ! 
 le sabre ! " 
 
 which was so appropriate that a staff-officer came 
 from Bergeret with a request that the Turcos change 
 their song. Unconscious of the irony, the Turcos 
 refused, and General Bergeret swore under his 
 breath that he would " purge" the battalion on their 
 return. Behind the Turcos came six more battal 
 ions, yelling for instant slaughter. 
 
 " Their lungs are all right," sneered Red McGlone 
 to Con Daily, who replied, " an I m thinkin their 
 appetites is better ! " 
 
 " Wait until we get out of the village," said 
 McBarron, with an ominous smile. 
 
 " Phwat s there ? " demanded Daily.
 
 WITH THE If ED FLAG. 307 
 
 " Look ! " 
 
 As he spoke the battalion wheeled into the open 
 country, and at the same moment Sarre threw up 
 his hand and the captains repeated the order : " Halt 1 
 halt ! halt ! " The three battalions in front had also 
 stopped, and every head was turned toward a great 
 grey hill which loomed up in the morning light, silent 
 and weird as a gigantic tomb. 
 
 It was Mont-Valerien. 
 
 An involuntary shiver passed through the entire 
 column. Somewhere among the shadows of that 
 hill huge guns were hidden ; for the hill itself was an 
 enormous fortress, and it overhung the route de 
 Rueil. 
 
 Bergeret turned his carriage and rattled along the 
 front of the column, chattering and jabbering. " It s 
 all right, there s nothing to fear, my friends," he 
 cried. " The fort is occupied by the marines ! The 
 marines are for the people! The fort is with us! 
 Forward, and Vive la Commune ! " 
 
 " Vive your grandmother, you empty-headed ape ! " 
 growled McBarron. But Bergeret s words inspired 
 confidence, and the troops pushed on, until the head 
 of the column reached the turn in the road where 
 the route de Rueil passes scarcely eight hundred 
 metres from the fortress. 
 
 Suddenly an awful explosion shook the solid earth, 
 then another, then another, then three together. It 
 was the Gibets redoubt. Almost at the same instant 
 the upper bastions of the fortress were belted with 
 lightning, and the majestic thunder of the siege guns 
 reverberated among the highlands opposite.
 
 308 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 A frightful panic ensued. Some of the Federals 
 lay mangled, some dead, others threw themselves on 
 their faces to escape the bursting shells, but the 
 great majority of the troops, terror-stricken, broke 
 into a wild stampede. In vain their officers attempted 
 to rally them, the old familiar cry: "Treason! 
 treason ! we are betrayed ! " spread among the ranks, 
 and drowned the shouts of the officers. Every 
 where troops were throwing away their arms and 
 flying in wild disorder. Artillery horses, panic- 
 stricken, dashed about in all directions, dragging 
 the cannon with them. Some of the troops seized 
 the horses, and, cutting the traces, fled to Paris, 
 ventre a terre. 
 
 The two horses attached to Bergeret s vehicle were 
 blown into atoms, but the " General " escaped, and 
 disappeared in the direction of Paris at the top of 
 his speed. Flourens, the hot-headed and impetuous, 
 fell with his skull split clean in two ; the command 
 ant of the 24th Battalion, was disembowelled by a 
 shell, and twenty-five of his men lay dead or wounded 
 in the roadway ; the I28th Battalion lost a lieutenant 
 and eighteen men ; and the iSSth, two officers blown 
 to smithereens, and fifteen men scattered among the 
 ditches. And this was only the first salvo as salute 
 from the fortress of Mont-Valerien. 
 
 The ist Paris Turcos had not been directly in 
 the line of fire, having halted almost at the entrance 
 to the village, but two giant shells crashed into their 
 ranks and burst as they struck. Three men in the 
 first company, including Cartier, the captain, lay 
 on the ground ; in the fifth company seven men
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 309 
 
 were killed, and the captain, Isidor Weser, was 
 lying under his dying horse. Sarre took it very 
 coolly. 
 
 " D n you," he cried, wheeling through the ranks, 
 " d n you ! What do you expect when you come 
 out to fight, a volley of confetti ? Steady there 
 steady! If anybody does n t like it I 11 give him 
 something he 11 like less ! Captain Weser, get up, 
 here, lieutenant, just give him a pull. Your horse is 
 in the molasses, but you re not hurt, Captain Weser. 
 I d like to hear anybody say treason in my bat 
 talion ! Attention ! lie down ! " 
 
 As he spoke a tempest of lead broke over the 
 heads of the soldiers and the rattle of a mitrailleuse 
 echoed from the lower slopes of the fortressed hill. 
 Two men were wounded, one a boy who screamed 
 and pitched headlong into the ditch below. Philip, 
 lying on his stomach, saw Red McGlone quivering 
 beside him, drenched with blood. Daily and McBar- 
 ron were holding his head. 
 
 " Red," said McBarron, kindly. But the wounded 
 man only gasped : " What t hell ! " and his life went 
 out in the dust of the Rueil road. 
 
 Philip turned anxiously toward the looming fort 
 ress, now silent and crowned with clouds, but from 
 those grey battlements no cannon flashed ; only the 
 billowy sea of smoke belted its bastions. He saw 
 his captain, Cartier, rise from the ground, dazed and 
 rumpled, with a long red gash across his forehead ; 
 he saw McBarron methodically examining Red 
 McGlone s pockets, and as, at a signal from Sarre, 
 he stood up with the others, he caught a glimpse of
 
 3IO THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Weser, green with terror, staring at the fortress as 
 though hypnotized. 
 
 On every side streamed the wreck of Bergeret s 
 corps, legging it for Paris, howling like Indians. Two 
 guns, the wreck of a mounted battery, stood unin 
 jured in a foot-path to the right ; the cannoniers had 
 cut the traces and galloped off, and there was noth 
 ing to be done in that direction. Sarre saw it and 
 leered at the flying troops. Then he turned to his 
 major, a stupid-eyed Breton named Gloanec, who sat 
 on his horse and watched the stampede with almost 
 as much emotion as a cow. 
 
 " Fine view, Major," sneered Sarre. 
 
 " Yes," replied that officer, without visible interest. 
 
 " The jig s up in Paris," said Sarre. 
 
 " Ma doui," replied the Major, tranquilly. An of 
 ficer in the uniform of the National Guard galloped 
 up to Sarre and saluted nervously. 
 
 " Well?" demanded Sarre. 
 
 " The the twenty thousand troop? of the reserve 
 across the river General Bergeret s corps, have 
 gone " 
 
 " Gone ! " shrieked Sarre, leaping straight up in 
 his saddle. 
 
 " Gone, run away, Colonel 
 
 " Then by G-d ! " yelled Sarre, " I 11 take my bat 
 talion to Clamart where a scented monkey does n t 
 command, by G-d ! I will, I ve had enough of tin 
 soldiers ! Sound the alert ! Attention ! By columns 
 of four here, take command, Major - I 11 show 
 this traitor Bergeret what I can do, yes, traitor ; 
 I Ve said it ! It s the word ! I may not be able to
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 311 
 
 manoeuvre a battalion, but I can fight ; you 11 all 
 see ! Weser, climb on a horse d n quick, or there 
 may be a few unpleasant words between us. Car- 
 tier, can you ride ? good ; it s only a scratch as you 
 say. Leave the dead in the village and detail four 
 men and a corporal to bury them. Any of the 
 wounded who can t come must wait there for the 
 ambulances. So they ran, did they ? The twenty 
 thousand National Guards ran away from Neuilly 
 when they heard the voice of Mont-Valerien ! Look ! 
 there go the Hussars of Death, trailing it for Cla- 
 mart. Good carrion crows ! Follow them, soldiers, 
 their scent is keen ! March ! " 
 
 Actually frothing at the mouth, Sarre drove his 
 spurs into his big horse and wheeled into the village. 
 As he passed Philip he pointed at him and cried : 
 " I put that man in your keeping, Captain Cartier, 
 and you will answer for his body, dead or alive, with 
 your own ! " Then, cursing, he struck his horse sav 
 agely with his gauntlet and plunged into the Clamart 
 road. 
 
 It was nearly six o clock in the morning before the 
 battalion came in sight of the fort of Issy, which was 
 commanded by Cluseret and had just been supplied 
 with heavy artillery. Under the protection of the 
 forts of the south, General Duval had massed his 
 troops in two columns, one occupying the Clamart 
 road, the other lying under the Moulineaux redoubt. 
 It was the best disposition possible, far better than 
 the imbecile manoeuvres of Bergeret s army, but 
 still the centre was weak, being composed of possi 
 bly five battalions supported by two batteries. As
 
 312 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Sarre, at the head of the 1st Turcos, marched un 
 der the Moulineaux redoubt, a staff-officer galloped 
 down the hill to meet him. 
 
 "Now what the devil does this peacock want ?" 
 sneered Sarre, but he drew bridle and returned the 
 officer s perfect salute with equal precision. 
 
 " General Duval supposes that the arrival of your 
 battalion confirms the report of General Bergeret s 
 disaster, brought in a few minutes ago by the Hus 
 sars of Death," said the staff-officer whose name was 
 Razoua, and who had served as chef de bataillon in 
 the iO3d until taken by Duval as aid. 
 
 " General Duval supposes correctly," replied Sarre, 
 and an ugly flush stained his forehead. 
 
 " Good," said Razoua, " General Duval s compli 
 ments, and orders to deploy your battalion as skir 
 mishers at Bas-Meudon woods. The attack begins 
 at six ; the signal a cannon-shot from the fort of 
 Issy. It is almost six now." 
 
 " And there goes the cannon-shot ! " cried Sarre, 
 in great good-humor, as a ball of smoke shot from 
 the fort and a sullen boom rolled through the woods 
 above. 
 
 Shrill hurrahs rent the air and Duval s battalions 
 poured out of the Issy crater, through the Mouli 
 neaux redoubt and started toward Meudon, cheering 
 frantically. Before the deep reverberations of the 
 first shot had died away, a sheet of flame wrapped 
 the bastions of the Vanves fort and the thunder of 
 the great mortars was echoed from the fort of Mont- 
 rouge, while the Moulineaux redoubt flamed and 
 pounded a deep accompaniment.
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 313 
 
 The works held by the Versailles army replied at 
 once. The batteries at Chatillon, Meudon, and Bas- 
 Meudon raged and blazed ; and now the petulant 
 crackling of the mitrailleuses could be heard above 
 Bas-Meudon, and the crash of platoon firing sounded 
 in the direction of Clamart village. 
 
 Almost before he knew it, Philip found himself in 
 the woods of Bas-Meudon, flat on the ground, look 
 ing into the young growth beyond where a few large 
 trees relieved the monotony of the saplings. Car- 
 tier, his captain, stood beside him watching every 
 movement of his company, urging on the tardy, cau 
 tioning the laggards, restraining the feather-brained. 
 
 As far as Philip could see, his squad was alone in 
 the woods, but he heard the twigs snapping on either 
 flank and he knew the rest of the battalion were 
 worming their way through the undergrowth toward 
 the heights above. 
 
 With every sense alert to the danger in front, he 
 yet watched his opportunity to escape. Captain 
 Cartier perhaps divined what was passing in his 
 mind, for he walked over to him and sat down on 
 a log beside him. 
 
 " Soldier," he said, " you heard what the Colonel s 
 orders are? " 
 
 " Yes, Captain Cartier." 
 
 " I shall carry them out," said Cartier. 
 
 Philip did not reply. The Captain eyed him curi 
 ously. 
 
 " You are not a coward, I see that," he said. 
 
 " No not a coward. I do not wish to die," re 
 plied Philip, quietly.
 
 314 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " And you are frightened at the sound of the 
 shells?" 
 
 "Yes, they frighten me." 
 
 " Why did you not run this morning then ? " 
 
 " Because I did n t have a chance," replied Philip, 
 innocently. 
 
 "Ah um yes," said Cartier, twisting his blonde 
 moustache, " er you do not care for the Com 
 mune ? " 
 
 Philip laughed in his despair. " Care for it ! I m 
 an American ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Are you the same Landes that Rigault is 
 after ? " 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Oh ! " Cartier was silent for a moment. Then 
 he stood up and said pleasantly ; " For my part I 
 wish you were safe ; I m no -hangman, but I have 
 my orders." 
 
 " Thank you, Captain Cartier," said Philip, as the 
 officer hurried away. 
 
 Foot by foot the skirmish lines wriggled forward, 
 their bodies scraping and rustling among the dead 
 leaves like snakes in the underbrush. From time to 
 time a soldier would clap his rifle to his shoulder 
 and aim at the heights, but the Captain was omni 
 present, and always kicked up the rifle with a stern 
 admonition. At last a soldier lying next to Philip 
 whipped his piece to his cheek and fired. Philip 
 saw a vanishing spot of scarlet far up among the 
 saplings, and the Captain saw it too. 
 
 The ist Turcos had struck the Versailles pickets. 
 
 When the echoes of the single shot died away, a
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 315 
 
 silence that was almost mournful fell among the 
 troops. Perhaps they began to realize that they 
 were fighting their own fellow-countrymen and that 
 it was civil war which had begun. Cartier, sad-eyed 
 and stern, drew his revolver and sent his sword ringing 
 into the scabbard. A Turco near Philip tucked up 
 his sleeves and made one or two preliminary passes 
 with his sabre bayonet at a young beech tree. Min 
 ute after minute passed in silence ; the long line 
 slowly crept onward and upward. 
 
 Philip was beginning to feel hot and thirsty and 
 had already started toward a rivulet which trickled 
 between the stones of an old watercourse, when a 
 movement in the woods above arrested his attention. 
 He turned his head. A soldier, wearing the scarlet 
 cap and trousers of the loyal army, was deliberately 
 aiming at him, and before he could realize it the 
 rifle cracked and a bullet sang past his ears. In 
 stinctively he recoiled, but another bullet struck his 
 tin cup, and another whirled up the dead leaves 
 beside him. Crack! crack ! crack crackle crackle! 
 The rifles were spurting tiny jets of flame from every 
 thicket, and now, as he peered from the shelter of 
 an oak tree, he saw the red-legged skirmishers 
 dodging about the woods above, crouching, leaping, 
 stealing forward, always advancing, until the report 
 of their rifles sounded clear and sharp, and he could 
 almost distinguish faces. The Turcos were returning 
 shot for shot, and the firing rippled along the line 
 until it blended in the distant tumult of the forts. 
 
 Philip did not fire. He had made up his mind 
 not to except in case a shot alone would save his 
 
 t
 
 316 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 life. He intended to desert at the first opportunity. 
 Once in the hands of the Versailles troops, he would 
 explain, if they gave him time before shooting him, 
 and if they did, he intended to take his revenge, 
 rifle in hand, on Sarre and his ruffians. Even the 
 thought of his duty to those in Paris, to Jeanne 
 above all, could not overcome his fierce longing to 
 requite with bullets the insults which had been 
 heaped upon him. Sarre, he saw, was no coward. 
 He would give him his chance, but Weser he would 
 have shot down, if he could, like a weasel or a skunk. 
 Yes, he would give Sarre a fair chance, not that 
 he deserved it, murderer and thilf that he was, but 
 he at least was courageous. Weser should be simply 
 removed like other vermin in any convenient way. 
 As he stood clutching his rifle and thinking of his 
 just vengeance, a bullet, flying from a new angle 
 across the woods, struck his water bottle, showering 
 him with diluted brandy. At the same instant a 
 howling storm of canister tore through the branches, 
 covering the Turcos with twigs and bark. Gust 
 after gust of screaming lead whirled over them ; 
 fiercer and fiercer shrieked the hail, until the tem 
 pest rose to a whistling blizzard of flame and shell, 
 tearing the trees to slivers, cutting the underbrush 
 like scythes, ripping, splintering, scorching all before 
 it. Far up in the wooded slopes the flashes of the 
 guns danced and twinkled like will o the wisps, and 
 the rifles of the Turcos made no sound in the crash 
 of the cannon and the mitrailleuses. Cartier, cool 
 and unscathed, leaned against a sapling pointing out 
 the Versailles skirmishers, directing a shot here, an
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 317 
 
 advance there, earnestly cautioning his men to hug 
 the ground and fire slowly. Twice Sarre and his 
 staff, dismounted, hurried along the line, scanning 
 anxiously the heights where the batteries crouched. 
 The second time they passed, the Major was struck 
 by a canister-shot, and they bore him to the shelter 
 of a tree. 
 
 " Curse the luck ! it s all over with Gloanec," said 
 Sarre, brutally ; and a few seconds later the unob 
 trusive Breton died, with perhaps even less emotion 
 than he had displayed in living. 
 
 Weser s company, the fifth, had been driven in 
 with trifling lossep, but except for that, the 1st 
 Turcos held their ground well. Their timidity at 
 encountering regular troops had fled, and now they 
 lay firing and cheering, and crept on, inch by inch, 
 until the red-trousered Versaillists found the pace 
 too hot, and their skirmishers began to fall back. 
 
 Captain Cartier had been watching Philip for 
 some time, and finally he came over to him and laid 
 his hand on his shoulder. " You have not fired a 
 shot to-day," he said. 
 
 Philip was silent. 
 
 " It won t do, it won t do," continued the Cap 
 tain ; " your example is bad for the rest. You must 
 fire, you need not aim too closely." 
 
 Philip replied by levelling his rifle at a stump and 
 deliberately knocking the chips from it with his first 
 shot. 
 
 " A sharpshooter too, well, I m sorry, I am 
 very sorry you are not with us." Cartier stood a 
 moment, thoughtfully twirling his revolver, then, 
 
 t
 
 318 THE RED REPUBLIC, 
 
 stepping into the middle of his company, he called 
 the names of seven men and a sergeant. They re 
 sponded instantly, and Cartier, motioning Philip to 
 fall in with them, pointed to a slope which rose to 
 the left, divided from their covert by a gully. 
 " You re to climb to the top of that slope," said 
 the Captain, " and see why Captain Weser s men 
 are allowing the enemy s skirmishers to nip us with 
 their cross-fire. If Captain Weser needs help, send 
 a man to me ; if he is holding his own, stay and 
 drive out the enemy s sharpshooters. I suspect they 
 are over there near that group of sycamore trees." 
 
 The sergeant saluted, and the little squad toiled 
 across the gully and slowly began to mount the op 
 posite incline. The slope was steep and densely 
 wooded, but they arrived at the top in a few min 
 utes and found Weser s men popping away with no 
 thought of aim, but with the one desire to make as 
 much smoke and racket as possible. Weser himself 
 was sitting down behind a tree in the rear very 
 much in the rear. The only reason why he was not 
 lying down was his fear of Sarre. He could have 
 stood the ridicule. 
 
 Weser s men were nervous and dispirited. This 
 was not war according to their ideas. Where was 
 the white-plumed leader on his charger, dashing up 
 to the cannon s mouth amid waving flags and acres 
 of bayonets ? Where was he ? Well, in this case 
 he was sitting behind a tree in the rear, and the 
 white plume had shrivelled into a very small white 
 feather. The truth was, Weser s bowels were water, 
 and the fright of the battle sounds had actually made
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. 319 
 
 him sick at his stomach. Murder, robbery, forgery, 
 he could easily understand. He was not afraid to 
 slip a knife into a man, when the man was looking 
 another way, but this zip ! zip ! z-z-tzing ! of the bul 
 lets was another matter, and for his part he cursed 
 Sarre, the Commune, and all its works, and wished 
 he was in Paris and safe in bed. 
 
 Five men had been killed in Weser s company, 
 two of them by the same bullet, and Philip saw 
 their stiffening corpses half supported by the tree 
 behind which a cross-fire volley had caught them. 
 The sergeant, a tall, good-humored Alsatian, was 
 posting his men to pick off the sharpshooters, who 
 had gained the sycamore covert and were now able 
 to fire into the centre of Weser s men. Philip found 
 himself, in company with McBarron, behind a lichen- 
 covered rock. On the ground under a neighboring 
 tree Con Daily squatted, his eyes blazing with the 
 fire of battle. 
 
 The cannonade, which a moment before had re 
 doubled in violence, now suddenly subsided ; the 
 enemy s rifles were silent, and there only remained 
 dropping shots from the Turcos. Philip caught a 
 glimpse of a Versaillist sharpshooter slinking away 
 through the sycamore thicket, and McBarron saw 
 him at the same moment, but before he could pull 
 trigger a deafening cheer rolled from the trees in 
 front, " Vive la Patrie ! Vive la France ! A la 
 baionnette ! " and out of the thickets on every side 
 burst swarms of fierce scarlet Zouaves, whirling their 
 terrible sabre-bayonets. 
 
 Weser s men gave them one astonished stare and
 
 32O THE RED REPUBLIC, 
 
 fled, but the Zouaves turned on Cartier s company, 
 snarling like tigers. Philip and McBarron crawled 
 to the edge of the slope and looked over. Every 
 where the scarlet of the Zouaves was mixed with 
 the blue of the Turcos, everywhere the stocks of 
 heavy rifles rose and fell, and the sharp sabre-bayo 
 nets were crimsoned to the hilt. It was over be 
 fore Philip could catch his breath, and, as there was 
 no quarter (a humane inspiration of Thiers), there 
 were no prisoners. Captain Cartier lay across a log 
 over which his brains were dripping ; beside him a 
 Zouave stood, cleaning the butt of his rifle with a 
 handful of dried leaves. All who had not run away 
 were dead or dying. Philip saw the coup-de-grace 
 given, and his heart came into his throat. 
 
 " That," said McBarron, calmly, " is the difference 
 between real Zouaves and counterfeit Turcos." 
 
 " Horrible horrible ! " murmured Philip, in Eng 
 lish. 
 
 Daily, who, in company with the other six men, 
 had come up to the edge of the slope, turned to 
 Philip with a friendly gesture. 
 
 " It s glad I am ye re no frog-ater " 
 
 " We d better be going," interrupted McBarron ; 
 " come on, Con Daily and you, there, whoever you 
 are, we must get out of this." 
 
 " Where ? " said Philip. 
 
 "Now how should he know, me cherub b y?" 
 said Daily. " Come on ; come on, the divil do I 
 know where " 
 
 " But we Ve got to git," concluded McBarron, as a 
 bullet whizzed by them and a dozen Zouaves started 
 into the gully at the foot of the slope.
 
 WITH THE RED FLAG. $21 
 
 " Give them a volley ! huroo ! whurro ! " sang out 
 Daily, banging away with his piece until McBarron 
 grabbed him by the neck and started after the 
 others who were legging it for safety. They caught 
 up with Philip, who had suddenly decided that the 
 Versaillist army was not exactly the harbor of refuge 
 he had been seeking, and they ran on through 
 woods, keeping the sergeant and the five others in 
 sight. Once they passed a dead horse across which 
 lay a Hussar of Death. His lips were stretched 
 tightly over his yellow teeth, and his sunken eyes 
 set in their sockets like ivory balls. One or two 
 brilliant flies buzzed about his head.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 
 
 WHEN Mont-Valrien opened its iron throat 
 and withered General Bergeret s column at 
 a breath, the majority of the inhabitants 
 of Paris were still sleeping. There were probably ex 
 ceptions ; there certainly was one Tcherka. 
 
 She had slipped out of the studio, unnoticed, the 
 night before and made straight for the rose bush, 
 which unfortunate shrub she had marked for ruin. 
 When Joseph came to lock the door, Tcherka hid 
 behind the lilacs until he had disappeared with his 
 lantern. Then she knew that the night was hers. 
 A night on the garden walls all alone ! She had never 
 been allowed to roam at night, but she often longed 
 for the revelry of the moonlit roof tops when she 
 heard other cats burst into impassioned argument or 
 scuttle over the tiles. Instinct told Tcherka that 
 the cats who gambolled and chanted among the 
 chimney-pots when the spring moonlight flooded 
 roof and wall, were not good cats. Tcherka herself 
 was a good cat. She knew this because Jeanne 
 often told her so. Being a good cat she desired to 
 play with bad cats ; and this was her opportunity. 
 
 Tcherka was not in a hurry to mount the wall and 
 explore the delicious unknown in the next garden. 
 
 322
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 323 
 
 Coquette by nature, she even coquetted with her 
 self, and now she was pretending to herself that she 
 had n t the slightest interest in whatever lay over 
 the wall. She walked about, frisking occasionally 
 with a tempting dry leaf or a particularly enticing 
 pebble, then she polished her beautiful claws on the 
 cherry tree, leaped softly to the edge of the fountain, 
 and sat down. Liberty was sweet to Tcherka, very 
 sweet, and a delightful sense of danger thrilled her, 
 for she was a maiden cat, and this shadowy moonlit 
 world was new and strange. 
 
 She had sat there perhaps ten minutes, and was 
 beginning to eye the wall again, when a swift shadow 
 fell across the gravel, and the ghost-like silhouette of 
 a strange cat appeared on the very wall she was 
 looking at. Tcherka slowly stiffened into a living 
 statue. It was a gentleman cat. 
 
 On his part it was love at first sight. Perhaps the 
 novelty of Tcherka s gaudy scarlet tail may have 
 settled him ; but, however it was, he was smitten 
 deeply smitten, and he wasted no time. His court 
 ship song was weird and wonderful. He reached 
 through octaves possibly never before traversed by 
 any voice ; his deep chest notes ended in masterly 
 gurgles ; his crescendos were crescendos of a vir 
 tuoso. 
 
 Jeanne de Brassac was lying awake in her bed. 
 All through the long night she tossed and turned, 
 thinking of Philip, pressing her throbbing head deep 
 into the pillows. Marguerite had sunk into a heavy 
 sleep of exhaustion, and the starlight, falling on her 
 face, trembled in points of light under her wet lashes.
 
 324 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Jeanne could not sleep, but it was nearly morning 
 before she crept from her couch and went to the 
 window. A cat was sitting on the wall underneath, 
 making melody as he understood it, but, as Jeanne 
 leaned from the window, he darted into the shadows, 
 and a moment later Tcherka sprang to the wall, and, 
 looking up at Jeanne, hoisted her tail with a little 
 mew of recognition. Jeanne looked at the cat indif 
 ferently at first, although she knew Tcherka was 
 transgressing all rules, but after a while she tried to 
 occupy her mind with the creature, and attempted 
 to coax her in. Of course Tcherka refused. 
 
 " Come, Tcherka dear, come, my own darling 
 Tcherka," whispered Jeanne, leaning far out of the 
 window. 
 
 The night was deliciously cool, and her hot fore 
 head throbbed less painfully. Then, as she could 
 not sleep, she dressed herself noiselessly, threw a 
 scarf over her head, and went quietly down the 
 stairs and out into the garden. Without taking 
 count of time, she moved up and down the paths 
 she loved, thinking always of Philip. It began to 
 grow brighter ; the bells in the convent rang for 
 half-past four o clock. Jeanne sank down by the 
 stone-rimmed fountain to rest. 
 
 A second later and the city was shaking with the 
 thunder from Mont-Valrien. 
 
 At the first shot, Tcherka gave a bound of amaze 
 ment. At the second, she leaped into the garden 
 and fled through the ivy-covered alley toward the 
 street gate. Jeanne, who had risen to her feet, pale 
 as death, saw Tcherka scramble past, and a minute
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 325 
 
 later realized that the cat had made for the outer 
 gate. Scarcely conscious of what she was doing, she 
 followed her pet through the alley and came to the 
 gate on the rue Notre Dame just in time to catch a 
 glimpse of Tcherka flying along the convent wall 
 opposite, toward the barricade on the rue Vavin. 
 Without a thought of herself she flung open the side 
 wicket and ran across the street calling, " Tcherka ! 
 Tcherka ! " but at that moment a terrific salvo from 
 the north drowned her voice and sent the cat scurry 
 ing on toward the barricade. Jeanne ran quickly 
 along the grey facade of the convent, always keep 
 ing Tcherka in view, and she had almost caught up 
 with the cat, when a burly figure sprang across the 
 sidewalk and aimed a blow at Tcherka with a rifle 
 butt. The cat dodged and flew over the barricade, 
 and Jeanne, who had followed close, turned on the 
 Turco like a tigress. 
 
 " How dare you touch my cat ! " 
 
 The Turco, a fat-jowled youth with a dull eye and 
 beardless chin, stared at her stupidly. 
 
 " How dare you ! " said Jeanne, in a low voice ; 
 " let me pass instantly ! " 
 
 Before the sentinel could open his mouth she had 
 traversed the barricade and was hurrying across the 
 rue Vavin toward the Luxembourg. Then the 
 Turco came to his senses and ran to the barricade. 
 " Halt ! Halt or I fire ! " he called out, and swung 
 his rifle to his cheek, but Jeanne, as if she had not 
 heard him, kept straight on. 
 
 " Halt or I fire ! " he cried again. She did not 
 even turn her head. He hesitated for a moment,
 
 326 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 lowered his rifle, raised it again irresolutely, and 
 finally set it down with a bang. He was not yet hard 
 ened to that point ; and when, aroused by his warn 
 ing challenge, the guard came stumbling out of the 
 caf6 on the corner, he lied to the corporal and took 
 a round cursing from that individual without a mur 
 mur. Five minutes later the sentinels were changed 
 and he was relieved. Ten minutes later Jeanne re 
 appeared at the barricade with Tcherka clasped 
 tightly in her arms. The new sentinel saw her and 
 brought his gun to a charge. At his challenge she 
 shrank back a little and then stood still. The sentinel, 
 a sensual thick-set fellow, laughed and addressed her 
 chaffingly. 
 
 " It s too early for the market, Mademoiselle, and 
 besides, we Turcos never eat yellow cats, only 
 black." 
 
 " I wish to pass," murmured Jeanne, who now be 
 gan to realize her position. 
 
 " Tiens ! So do many people who can t give the 
 word or show a pass. They re not all as pretty as 
 you though. Come, let s be sociable. Will you 
 give me a kiss if I let you pass ? " 
 
 Jeanne was frightened. As she stood there, hug 
 ging Tcherka desperately to her breast, she could see 
 the coarse face of the sentinel all flushed and bloated, 
 with little wicked eyes leering at her across the bar 
 ricade, and her knees trembled. There was no use. 
 One glance at the man s face was sufficient, but 
 nevertheless she tried again and told her story with 
 a faint heart. 
 
 " And you followed that cat ? "
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 327 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " From where? " 
 
 " From my house." 
 
 " Where do you live and what is your name ? " 
 
 Jeanne was silent. She dared not say where she 
 lived, and she dared not tell her name. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said the sentinel, with an impu 
 dent grin, " those little histories are very pretty for 
 children. Come and give me a kiss or two and we 
 will find other things to talk about ! " 
 
 Sick with fright, she turned and ran down the 
 street toward the Luxembourg again. The rue 
 Vavin was black and deserted but the rue de Lux 
 embourg was brighter and a stream of people was 
 passing along the gilded iron railing of the Gardens 
 toward the rue de Vaugirard. Jeanne instinctively 
 felt that she was safer in a crowd than alone in the 
 silent streets, and she hurried on and mixed with 
 the moving people, wondering what had brought 
 women and children into the streets at that hour. 
 What to do, now that her only refuge was gone, was 
 a question she dared not ask herself. 
 
 She had literally no roof, no bed, and not one 
 penny. Her misfortune was too sudden, too terrible 
 for her to understand at once. She followed the 
 crowd of men and women because she felt safer with 
 them and she had no other place to go. Where they 
 were going and why, she did not stop to enquire, but 
 she hugged Tcherka close and slipped along beside a 
 tall gaunt grey-haired woman who carried a loaf of 
 bread and a bottle of wine in one hand and led a 
 little child by the other. Once or twice the woman
 
 328 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 glanced at her without speaking, but as they crossed 
 the rue de Vaugirard and turned into the rue Bona 
 parte she said abruptly : " Why do you take your cat 
 with you ? " 
 
 " I don t know," said Jeanne. 
 
 The woman s voice was not unkind, and when she 
 spoke again Jeanne looked up into her sad eyes. 
 
 " Is it a father or a brother or a lover, my child ? " 
 said the woman. 
 
 " I don t know what you mean, Madame," replied 
 Jeanne, faintly. 
 
 The woman stared. "You know where you are 
 going?" she demanded. 
 
 Jeanne was silent. 
 
 " And you know that the battle has begun ? " con 
 tinued the woman. 
 
 " I I heard the cannon," replied Jeanne. 
 
 " My boy is with the Turcos, the First Paris 
 Battalion," sighed the woman ; "they marched with 
 General Bergeret. They say one can see everything 
 from the fortifications." 
 
 "Are you going to the fortifications?" asked 
 Jeanne, timidly. 
 
 " Of course, are not you ? I thought you had a 
 brother or a lover with the army; you are out so 
 early." Then she cast a searching glance at Jeanne s 
 white face. " My child," she said, " you are in 
 trouble. What brings you out into the streets at 
 this hour. Tell me, I can see you are good." 
 But Jeanne drew closer to her and hugged Tcherka 
 tighter, saying, " let me stay with you, Madame, I 
 am very unhappy."
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 329 
 
 Day was breaking when they reached the glacis of 
 the fortifications. In the pallid light, thousands of 
 figures stood out against the sky, men, women, and 
 children, who had swarmed to the bastions when the 
 heavy voice of Mont-Valerien awoke them in their 
 beds. The city gate below was open, and the long 
 road which stretched away into the country was 
 crowded with people who had come to see a battle. 
 As six o clock chimed from the city bells, the first 
 gun from the Issy fort boomed out, followed by the 
 crash of the batteries in all the forts of the south. 
 A moment later the Versailles works joined in and 
 the artillery duel, which was the signal for Duval s 
 advance, began with a din so terrible that many 
 women left the fortifications and even the gamins 
 looked uncomfortable. 
 
 Jeanne sat on the granite parapet overlooking the 
 country below Versailles, clinging to Tcherka, who 
 scrambled madly when the bombardment began. 
 Beside her sat the grey-haired woman, holding the 
 child, a girl of six. Below them the Seine wound 
 through the plain, curving out by Neuilly, where the 
 black gun-boat lay. Clusters of red-roofed villages 
 dotted the plain, with here and there a tower or 
 steeple or a patch of woodland tinged with tender 
 green. The smoke of the battle rose above the Issy 
 fort and hung low over Meudon woods. Bas-Meudon 
 was quiet and clear. 
 
 " My name is Cartier," said the woman to Jeanne. 
 After a moment she added ; " you need not tell me 
 yours, my child." 
 
 " My name is Jeanne de Brassac," said Jeanne, 
 simply.
 
 330 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Madame Cartier started and turned toward her 
 with compassion in her eyes. " My poor girl! " she 
 murmured, " my poor girl ! " 
 
 "You have heard then?" whispered Jeanne. 
 
 " Yes, the reward is posted in our street. Why 
 did you tell me?" 
 
 " I don t know," replied Jeanne, wearily ; " I 
 trust you." 
 
 "You may," said Madame Cartier. Then she 
 told Jeanne how her son, who had been a carpenter, 
 was already captain in the 1st Turcos and hoped 
 soon to be promoted. " He is a good son to me," 
 she said ; " he would not let me sew any longer as 
 soon as he got work, and we were very happy until 
 the war broke out. Then my son went to Metz 
 with Bazaine the traitor, and was betrayed sold to 
 the Prussians ! Ah ! He has suffered from the 
 thieves who now come to crush us into slavery with 
 Monsieur Thiers at their head ! , Do you hear the 
 sound of their cannon?" 
 
 " I hear," sighed Jeanne. 
 
 " I do not know what you have done," continued 
 Madame Cartier, hushing the little girl to sleep on 
 her lap, " but I am sure the Commune has no need 
 to trouble a child of your age. If the reward for your 
 arrest were millions it would not make any difference 
 to me. Are you ill?" 
 
 "111? Oh no no!" 
 
 "You are so white." 
 
 " I I have lost a brother, my only living 
 friend." 
 
 "Was he killed?"
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 331 
 
 " Oh, no," whispered Jeanne, with a horrified 
 face ; " he I am afraid he has been obliged to 
 hide from the Commune." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, be thankful he is not out there 
 among the shells and bullets. My son is there. 
 Do you know what I feel?" 
 
 "Yes I do, I think." 
 
 " Because you love your brother." 
 
 " He is is not my real brother " 
 
 " Ah ! my child, my child ! " said Madame Cartier, 
 gently. 
 
 The terrible thunder from the forts continued, day 
 was advancing ; the two women sat silent, leaning 
 together. Under her grey hair Madame Cartier s 
 face looked very wan. Jeanne leaned over and kissed 
 her withered cheek. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! " moaned the woman, 
 " nous autres nous sommes bien bien malheu- 
 
 reuses 
 
 A voice from the gate below broke in harshly : 
 " Bergeret s corps has been annihilated by Mont- 
 Val6rien ! " 
 
 For a moment a sort of stupor fell upon the 
 people who thronged the bastion. Then the cry 
 arose, " Treason ! treason ! " Everywhere women 
 crowded, imploring, demanding news of some bat 
 talion or squadron ; the officers on the parapets 
 were overwhelmed with anxious questions which 
 they found impossible to answer. And now in the 
 roads below, the first stragglers from Bergeret s 
 column ran up, howling disaster and treason, and 
 before they had passed the gates, terrified masses of
 
 332 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Federals appeared, flying from the Pont de Neuilly, 
 horses, cannon, infantry, and baggage wagons mixed 
 in an indescribable tor rent. Awful stories of the 
 butchery by the cannon of Mont-Valerien were circu 
 lated ; some said that Bergeret was killed after having 
 two horses shot under him in as many gallant charges. 
 It was perfectly true that he had had two horses 
 killed, not under, but in front of him,- dragging 
 his carriage. The news of Flourens death drew 
 cries of anger and revenge from the crowd, as the 
 battalions filed past and entered the gate, now 
 packed on every side by anxious thousands. 
 
 " Where are the Turcos ? " cried a voice on the 
 glacis. 
 
 " Killed to a man ! " shouted a frightened Mobile. 
 
 Madame Cartier stood straight up, quivering all 
 over. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said a heavy, good-natured officer 
 of the National Guard who had climbed the glacis to 
 watch the entry of the troops. " Nonsense ! " he 
 repeated loudly, " the Turcos are all right. They 
 were not in the line of fire, and they did n t run 
 away as we did." 
 
 Then the crowd cheered for the Turcos, and some 
 even began to jeer at the National Guard battalions 
 as they streamed along below toward the centre of 
 the city. 
 
 A soldier came out of the telegraph station and 
 posted up on the wall a despatch which claimed a 
 victory for Bergeret, and ended : " Have no fear ! 
 All goes well with our troops. Bergeret himself is 
 there ! "
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 333 
 
 This evoked a storm of derision. 
 
 " Bergcret Jiimself? And who is Bergeret him 
 self ? " yelled a gamin. 
 
 A roar of angry laughter followed ; and from that 
 day the imbecile Bergeret was known from one end 
 of France to the other as " Bergeret Himself." 
 
 " Victory?" cried one, "if this is victory, give me 
 disaster and defeat ! " 
 
 " They are running very fast from their field of 
 triumph ! " shouted another. 
 
 Madame Cartier approached the good-natured 
 National Guard who had spoken so frankly about 
 his own flight and the probable safety of the Turcos. 
 
 "How do you know the Turcos are safe?" she 
 said. 
 
 " Because I saw them marching in good order 
 toward the Clamart road. They have probably gone 
 to join General Duval, who is a general," replied 
 the officer, while he filled his pipe with perfect equa 
 nimity. 
 
 " Do you know Captain Cartier?" 
 
 " I do, Madame, and all his company." 
 
 "Is he safe?" 
 
 " I saw him with his company, filing through the 
 village after the fortress had ceased firing." 
 
 " Was anybody killed in his company? " 
 
 " I saw an American named McGlone lying 
 dead 
 
 Jeanne caught the words " dead " and " Ameri 
 can," and drew near, holding tightly to Tcherka. 
 " An American dead ? " she asked ; " where ? " 
 
 " In the Rueil road, Madame."
 
 334 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " When the fortress was peppering us." 
 
 " Did you know this American ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes I camped last night with my comrade 
 Cartier, and I saw several Americans in the bat 
 talion, one a new man, just brought in. He did n t 
 seem very happy, and Cartier said that Sarre, the 
 Colonel, hated him." 
 
 "A soldier?" enquired Jeanne. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Jeanne turned away with a feeling of relief, but 
 before she had taken two steps she heard the officer 
 say: " Madame, that new recruit answered to the 
 description of the man Landes, whom Raoul Ri- 
 gault is so anxious to get that he has just doubled 
 the reward. I mentioned it to Captain Cartier, but 
 he thought I was mistaken, because Sarre knew him, 
 and if he had been this fellow Landes he would 
 have turned him over to Rigault in quick time, I 
 can tell you." 
 
 Jeanne crept back to Madame Cartier, and leaned 
 on her shoulder. " How did this American look? " 
 she asked quietly. 
 
 The officer described Philip so perfectly that 
 Jeanne felt herself turning faint. 
 
 " Don t you see, Mademoiselle ? " he explained, 
 " that is exactly like the description in Raoul 
 Rigault s notice. Captain Cartier said this one was 
 caught trying to scale a wall in the Passage Stanislas, 
 dressed as a National Guard, and Sarre gave him his 
 choice of joining the ranks or being shot. But 
 Rigault will get him all in good time
 
 TCHERKA HAS AN IDEA. 335 
 
 "But my son told you, did he not, Monsieur, that 
 it was not the same man for whom the reward is 
 offered ? " said Madame Cartier, indifferently, and, 
 as if they had heard all they wished to, she drew 
 Jeanne away to the parapet. 
 
 " You love Monsieur Landes," she whispered, as 
 they stood by themselves. " Your name is on the 
 notice of arrest with his. Do you think this soldier 
 in the Turco battalion can be he ? " 
 
 " I know it is he," said Jeanne, in a heart-sick voice. 
 
 At noon the news came that the Turcos were 
 routed, that one company had been annihilated in 
 Bas-Meudon woods, and the remainder were being 
 pursued by the ferocious Zouaves of Charette. 
 Jeanne heard it at the gate and stepped out into the 
 road beyond. 
 
 Weser s Turcos of the 5th company were passing, 
 and she recognized the uniform and stopped a soldier 
 with a gesture. 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " 
 
 "Bas-Meudon." 
 
 " Where is that ? " 
 
 .The Turco pointed to the hill. 
 
 " Where are the others of your regiment ? " 
 
 " The dead are in the woods ; the rest are running 
 to get out of the woods," said the soldier, grimly, and 
 tramped away into the city. 
 
 Jeanne, the tears rolling down her pale cheeks, 
 gazed at the distant wooded slope, all dotted with 
 little clouds of smoke. Tcherka leaped from her tired 
 arms and trotted ahead out into the country road, 
 looking back at her mistress to see if she would fol<
 
 33^ THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 low. Tcherka had an idea. It was that if she might 
 wheedle her mistress into the country they could 
 have a much-needed romp together. So Tcherka 
 stood in the morning sunlight, her magnificent eyes 
 glowing like twin emeralds, looking coquettishly 
 back at Jeanne, who stood white and silent in the 
 city gate.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 SAJ?E PAYS A DEBT. 
 
 WHEN the Zouaves of Charette emerged from 
 Bas-Meudon woods they had swept the 
 underbrush clean of all living creatures. 
 Twice the Hussars of Death turned and swooped 
 through their flanks, black cloaks in ribbons, sabres 
 dripping from point to hilt, but the Zouaves drove 
 them into the ditches, ripping and stabbing horses 
 and riders with their terrible sabre-bayonets ; and, at 
 last, shouting hoarsely, the Hussars of Death wheeled 
 into flight across the stubble to the open country 
 beyond. 
 
 Sarre s Turcos had been taken by the flank, and 
 the blow fell disastrously where Weser s men had 
 fled and Cartier s company had been annihilated. 
 The point of the wedge had entered here, and both 
 wings of the battalion were curling up like withering 
 leaves. Sarre raged, shrieking curses on his men, 
 driving them forward at the point of his revolver, but 
 the Zouaves sprang in, storming like fiends among 
 the wavering ranks, hewing, smashing, slashing, 
 dragging officers from their horses and bayoneting 
 them without mercy, seizing battle flags, ripping the 
 red standard of the Commune from its gilded staff. 
 And now it was over. What remained of the ist 
 22 337
 
 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Battalion of Paris Turcos was fighting its way with 
 the fury of despair toward the open country. Again 
 and again the Zouaves hurled themselves on the lit 
 tle square with the bayonet, and at each mad strug 
 gle the group of Turcos dwindled, but the Zouaves 
 left as many dead and dying among the ditches and 
 potato hills as did the Turcos. 
 
 Sarre, still mounted, seemed to hold the little band 
 around him by main strength of will. His sabre, all 
 smeared with thick blood and hair, hovered above 
 the shock of encounter, menacing the enemy, threat 
 ening the faint-hearted among his own followers. 
 
 There were perhaps two hundred men around him 
 when they reached the Clamart route, but the 
 Zouaves were firing now by platoons, and the Turcos 
 fell like leaves in a storm, till a dip in the road and 
 a long ridge gave them a moment s shelter. Sarre 
 glared about him like a trapped wolf. On the other 
 side of the road stood a solitary stone farm-house set 
 back among the trees of an orchard. At a glance he 
 saw that here he must stand at bay. There was no 
 use going farther, although they were within sight of 
 the fortifications of Paris. Ten minutes more of the 
 Zouaves fusilade would leave absolutely nothing of 
 his command. It was a choice of dying in the open 
 road or of dying behind the stone walls of a house. 
 Sarre chose the latter, not because he had the faint 
 est hope of help from Duval, the fort of Issy, 
 or from Paris, but because here he could longer 
 stave off death and have more time to kill Zouaves. 
 With a deadly glance at the red fezes of the Zouaves 
 which began to bob up over the crest of the ridge,
 
 SARRE PA YS A DEBT. 339 
 
 he led his men, now numbering possibly fifty, into 
 the orchard near the farm-house. 
 
 " A man to every tree ! " he shouted ; " ten men 
 to hold that hedge ; six men behind the well-curb. 
 Is there a captain here ? What ! Have they 
 peppered all my captains? Hey ! You there, you 
 lieutenant, d n you, I forget your name, take 
 command in the orchard and hold out! Hold out! 
 You d better if you know what s good for you 
 the Zou-Zous don t take any prisoners. We Ve got 
 to hold until they send from Paris and get us out of 
 this frying-pan." Then noticing Philip standing 
 silently beside McBarron and Con Daily, he walked 
 up to him with a grin. "You here?" he demanded ; 
 "well! well! You have no luck at all. It s very 
 funny to think that you are going to be spitted on 
 one of your own bayonets. They give no quarter." 
 
 Philip turned away without answering, and Sarre 
 walked over to the shelter of the well-curb, for the 
 shots began to patter among the trees, and the 
 Turcos down by the hedge were firing frantically. 
 
 "Lie down," said McBarron, "lie down, both of 
 you ! " 
 
 Daily, instead of obeying, coolly brought his rifle 
 to his cheek and dropped a distant Zouave in his 
 tracks. 
 
 " What d ye think av that ! " he shouted, shoving 
 in another cartridge. 
 
 " Lie down, Con Daily, you fool ! " growled Mc 
 Barron, taking long aim at an officer of Zouaves and 
 knocking him clean over with a bullet through the 
 face.
 
 340 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Fool ! " yelled Daily, " I m no fool F 11 have ye 
 know whurroo ! d ye mark that, McBarron ? " as 
 his rifle spit flame again and another Zouave sprang 
 into the air and fell, turning and twisting over the 
 ground. 
 
 And now the fire grew close and deadly. From 
 behind every tree, every hummock, every hedge-row, 
 the Turcos poured streams of bullets into the char 
 ging Zouaves. The orchard smoked like a bonfire. 
 Three times the Zouaves came on, up to the very 
 hedge-rows, but they could not stand the deadly 
 storm. The trees and hedges were fringed with 
 flame, and death swept out of the rolling puffs of 
 smoke, mowing the Zouaves into rows and heaps, 
 until they broke and sought cover behind the ridge. 
 Far away across the country the Hussars of Death 
 were flitting toward Paris ; in the west, Issy spurted 
 flame and smoke ; and beyond, in the direction of 
 Clamart, a great battle was going on, for the steady 
 crash of volley firing rose above the thunder of the 
 forts. 
 
 At three o clock in the afternoon the Turcos, re 
 duced to twenty men, were still holding out, but 
 they were beginning to suffer the tortures of thirst. 
 Two men, shot in the act of lowering the bucket to 
 draw water, had fallen into the well carrying the 
 bucket with them. One of them, still alive, was 
 clinging to some cranny, calling piteously for help, 
 but there was no rope to lower, nor if there had been, 
 was there any time to lower it, for the Zouaves 
 swarmed now about the orchard like angry wasps, 
 just outside of the drifting smoke and rifle flashes,
 
 SARRE PAYS A DEBT. 341 
 
 only waiting for the moment to break in and hack 
 the life from the last living Turco. 
 
 Of the two dozen who were left, four held the 
 hedge, ten crouched behind the trees, and three or 
 four lurked about the well-curb. Sometimes for ten 
 minutes not a shot would be fired on either side 
 until a gleam of red breeches, a twinkle of white- 
 gaitered legs, and a loud cheer would bring each 
 Turco to his feet ; and then such a cyclone of lead 
 would sweep down the orchard slope, that the 
 Zouaves always halted, and deployed in open order, 
 firing instead of using the bayonet. 
 
 Once, however, six Zouaves crept up under cover 
 of the smoke and started cautiously across the 
 northern angle of the orchard, but before they had 
 gone ten paces they stumbled over McBarron, Con 
 Daily, Philip, Sarre, and two other Turcos, who had 
 left the trees and were making for a spring in the 
 meadow behind the house. Sarre clutched a Zouave 
 by his blue sash and cut his throat before he could 
 scream. Con Daily knocked another s skull in with 
 the butt of his rifle, McBarron bayoneted two more, 
 and another was shot in the stomach by Sarre. 
 Philip was not pressed so he did not fire until the 
 last Zouave suddenly sprang on him with an un 
 earthly yell and seized him by the hair. Then 
 Philip caught him around the waist and bent him 
 back until his muscles cracked, and Sarre deliberately 
 ran him through the neck with his sticky sabre. The 
 Zouave fell a dead weight in Philip s arms, writhed a 
 moment on the young grass, then, as Sarre struck 
 him savagely over the temple with the butt of his 
 revolver, he quivered and died.
 
 342 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 "Curse them, the slinking wolves!" muttered 
 Sarre, glancing toward the ridge ; " we have n t time 
 to get to the spring no by God ! for here they come ! 
 Look out ! " 
 
 The Zouaves were upon the hedge before Sarre 
 could reach the well-curb, and this time they went 
 through it, beat out the brains or butchered with 
 their bayonets every Turco behind it, and swept on 
 toward the orchard. Here, however, they were met 
 with a scorching fire, and they fell back to the 
 shelter of the hedge. 
 
 Then Sarre led his fourteen men into the stone 
 house, for he knew the jig was up and they could only 
 die like rats in their corners, fighting to the last. 
 
 The house, a two-storied building, was deserted. 
 McBarron, Daily, and Philip were posted in the bed 
 room which commanded the orchard and well, while 
 the others piled chests, armoires, and beds against 
 the single door, and stuffed every window with pil 
 lows, mattresses, and bedclothes. Sarre nosed about 
 for something to drink, but found nothing, not even 
 a drop of water. 
 
 " Here ! " he cried, " we ve got to have water 
 who will volunteer for the spring? Here are three 
 buckets! come now, three men of good will! " 
 
 " I 11 go," said McBarron, quietly, looking down 
 over the banisters. 
 
 " Good ! " growled Sarre, " who next ? " 
 
 " I have two comrades up here, they will go," 
 replied McBarron ; " send up three men to watch the 
 orchard and we can drop out of the back window." 
 
 Sarre nodded, detailed three men to mount the
 
 SARRE PA YS A DEBT. 343 
 
 stairs to hold the bedroom window, and sent the 
 buckets up by them. McBarron handed Philip and 
 Daily each a bucket, slung his rifle across his shoul 
 ders, stepped to the rear window, and opened it. 
 Then he quietly dropped to the ledge, rested his 
 feet on the shutter below, and sprang lightly into 
 the kitchen garden. Daily and Philip followed him, 
 and in a moment they were creeping through the 
 overgrown gully which had been used as a drain, 
 toward the little spring in the meadow below. The 
 drain led to a deep ditch which wound through the 
 meadow and received the tiny stream of water from 
 the spring. In single file, bent nearly double, they 
 crept along until they came to a rivulet which flowed 
 into the drain from the spring above. 
 
 " This will do, we can t crawl over to the spring, 
 that s certain," said McBarron, and tipped the edge 
 of his pail under the rivulet. Daily and Philip drank 
 their fill, and when McBarron s bucket was full they 
 shoved theirs under the little stream of water while 
 McBarron peered through the weeds and dried brush- 
 heaps toward the orchard. 
 
 " They are keeping very quiet," he said. 
 
 Daily picked up his pail which was full and 
 started toward the house. 
 
 " Wait for me ! " said Philip, who had just placed 
 his pail under the stream of water. 
 
 " No, Con Daily and I had better go back and get 
 these buckets hoisted up safe while we can. You 
 can t tell, waiting for you might delay us a second 
 
 too long. They re keeping so d n quiet in the 
 
 orchard that there must be something up."
 
 344 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 "Then am I to follow you as soon as I get this 
 filled, or shall I wait until you come back for more ? " 
 
 " We ve wather enough ! " said Daily," come when 
 ye re tin s full, we 11 pull ye up, me cherub b y." 
 
 Philip sat down while his pail was filling and 
 watched his two comrades creeping through the 
 drain. When they reached the kitchen garden they 
 crossed it to the house and looked up at the window. 
 Presently a Turco s head was thrust out, and in a 
 moment more Daily had climbed to McBarron s 
 shoulders and was lifting his pail to the man at the 
 window. Then a rifle cracked, and a puff of smoke 
 shot from a tuft of dead weed-stalks in the open 
 meadow. McBarron reeled and fell against the stone 
 side of the house and Daily tumbled to the ground, 
 his bucket of water splashing all over him. In a 
 second the Turco at the window whipped his piece 
 to his shoulder and fired, and an answering bullet 
 sped from the tuft of weeds. McBarron threw up 
 his hands and stumbled forward on his face. Daily 
 was on his feet like a cat, and, unslinging his rifle, 
 blazed away at the hidden sharpshooter, but again 
 the tongue of flame leaped from the weed cover, 
 and Con Daily whirled around on his heels and 
 pitched headlong into the ditch. 
 
 The water in Philip s bucket was running over 
 now but he did n t see it. His eyes were fixed on 
 that tuft of weeds. After a moment he saw a 
 Zouave cautiously rise to his knees and creep up 
 toward the house. Then other figures bobbed up 
 all over the meadow ; every hillock, every ditch, 
 held its man ; and now the orchard, the hedge-row*.
 
 SARRE PAYS A DEBT. 345 
 
 the fields were swarming with red-legged Zouaves 
 all moving silently and swiftly on the stone house. 
 The farm was completely surrounded, and Philip saw 
 that he was already far in the rear of the advancing 
 Zouaves. 
 
 The first thought that came to him was that he 
 must return and share the fortune of his battalion. 
 This was mere instinct, and the next moment he 
 knew that he owed nothing to his battalion, and his 
 debt to his Colonel could only be paid in bullets. 
 But although he felt that now at last he was out of 
 the clutches of the Commune, his sympathies, 
 strangely enough, were with the little garrison in 
 that stone house ; for they had been his companions 
 in danger, and now they were about to die. He did 
 not think of escape for the moment, nor yet of his 
 own personal safety. He crouched in the ditch 
 watching those closing lines of scarlet. Would the 
 Zouaves take the house by storm? Ah? he under 
 stood now, for the red lines had halted and a sec 
 tion of a light battery trotted across the meadow 
 toward a ridge half sheltered by the orchard. An 
 officer who sat his horse beautifully was directing 
 the two guns, and his indifference to the frenzied 
 volleys from the windows of the farm nearly cost 
 him his life, for his horse sank under him and he 
 was pulled to his feet by a Zouave, who himself fell 
 a second later. But now the guns were in position 
 and the signal was given. 
 
 "No. i, fire!" Bang! 
 
 " No. 2, fire ! " Bang ! Crash ! 
 
 The house, for a moment enveloped in dust, tot-
 
 346 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 tered, then simply crumbled to the ground, and a 
 dozen Turcos tumbled out like rats from a sack. 
 But the Zouaves were upon them and they died 
 hard, fighting to the end. Philip saw Sarre strike 
 down three Zouaves, then stagger about as though 
 dazed, until a sabre - bayonet pinned him to the 
 earth. And that was the end ; for the ist Paris 
 Turcos had been, with the exception of Weser s 
 fifth company, and possibly fifty stragglers from 
 Bas-Meudon woods, absolutely wiped off the face of 
 the earth.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE WHITE ROAD. 
 
 PHILIP S pail was running over and the cool 
 water soaked his shoes. Scarcely knowing 
 what he did, he dropped to his knees, thrust 
 his face into the bucket, drank long and deep, then 
 bathed his hot face and neck. Then he laid his rifle 
 and bayonet beside the pail, rose to his feet, bending 
 low, and started to follow the ditch across the fields 
 to where the Paris military road wound like a white 
 ribbon in the distance. He intended to get back to 
 the city because the Versaillists, under Thiers, had 
 started to out-Nero Nero ; and, although he had 
 recognized in the officer who commanded the bat 
 tery section Alain de Carette, the ferocious butchery 
 by the Zouaves had sickened him, and he almost 
 hated the Versailles troops as much as he did the 
 Federals. To run to Alain in his uniform of a 
 Turco and cry, " I am innocent," might possibly be 
 practicable, but if he should happen to meet a 
 Zouave on the way, Philip knew that killing would 
 come first and questions afterwards. And now 
 Alain de Carette had ridden away with his guns and 
 the Zouaves were leaving a guard about the house, 
 while the main body had already moved out toward 
 the Clamart road, where, above the trees, the smoke 
 
 J47
 
 348 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 rolled up from Clamart village, and the distant bel 
 low of cannon told a tale of fierce and stubborn 
 fighting. 
 
 The ditch grew deeper and broader as it ap 
 proached the Paris route. Philip followed it slowly, 
 for the drain was full of briers and puddles of water. 
 Three times he was obliged to creep on his stomach 
 through long stone culverts partially choked with 
 weeds. Once, on emerging from a culvert, he had 
 to crawl over an obstruction which proved to be a 
 corpse. The dead man lay face downwards in the 
 mud, and as Philip stumbled on, shuddering, sleek 
 brown river rats scuttled away through the under 
 growth on either side. 
 
 When at last he reached the culvert that tunnelled 
 the Paris route, he ventured to raise his head above 
 the edge of the ditch and look back across the plain. 
 Two miles away the ruins of the stone farm-house 
 lay white in the sunshine beside the orchard, and far 
 beyond, the smoke of the battle hung like a huge 
 mushroom over the trees which hid Clamart village. 
 On the slopes of Bas-Meudon he could see the 
 sparkle of sunlight on bayonets, but, except for 
 that, and a single dark square patch on the hillside 
 which he knew to be troops in motion, the imme 
 diate vicinity appeared to be safe enough. He sup 
 posed that the ditch ran down to the Seine not far 
 beyond the Paris route, so he crouched again, wrig 
 gled through the culvert, and started on. The river 
 was nearer than he had thought it could be, for ten 
 minutes more brought him to the muddy bank. But 
 before he had time to pull himself out of the mud
 
 THE WHITE ROAD. 349 
 
 and climb to the field above, a voice hailed him 
 harshly, and a gaunt creature sprang upon him, cry 
 ing: "Halt! halt!" He looked up. A Hussar of 
 Death was covering him with a revolver. He was 
 safe at last ! To his tired hot eyes the man clothed 
 in his fantastic uniform seemed an angel of mercy. 
 The Hussar of Death eyed him for an instant, 
 slowly lowered his revolver, and burst into a horrible 
 silent laugh. Philip crept out of the ditch and 
 stumbled to his feet beside the trooper. 
 
 "I am the last of the battalion," he said, wearily, 
 " the Colonel and the rest lie yonder. Can I get 
 across the river?" 
 
 The hussar turned and pointed through the trees 
 to a pontoon bridge below them. " There is time," 
 he croaked, and Philip hurried on. 
 
 When he reached the bridge, a company of Fed 
 erals were beginning to dismantle it, but they drew 
 aside to let him pass, and in a few moments he had 
 reached the other bank, and stood safe and sound, 
 but tired and feverish and terribly footsore. He 
 saw a group of houses, red-roofed and stucco-walled, 
 on the bank above, and when he had climbed up to 
 them he found himself in a tiny village. The village 
 was occupied by Federal infantry, and the single 
 street was full of officers, who stared at him very 
 hard as he passed. One of the houses seemed to be 
 the headquarters of some general, for aides were 
 passing in and out, sentinels patrolled the garden, 
 and the horses of an escort stood patiently in the 
 shade of a budding chestnut tree by the garden wall. 
 
 As he passed the gate a trooper ran up behind him
 
 350 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 and tapped him on the shoulder. " The General 
 wants to see you, comrade," he said. 
 
 " What General ? " said Philip, nervously. 
 
 " General Dombrowski." 
 
 " What for ? " demanded Philip. 
 
 " Now I don t know how should I ? He heard 
 that a Turco had come in and Colonel Wilton sent 
 me to find you." 
 
 At the name of Wilton, Philip turned away 
 sharply. 
 
 " You d better come," suggested the soldier, fin 
 gering his rifle. A group of soldiers and officers had 
 formed around them and Philip saw that he could 
 not hesitate any longer ; but, as he made a motion 
 to follow the soldier, the group parted and a gray- 
 haired officer who held himself very erect stepped 
 into the circle, followed by a file of brilliantly uni 
 formed aides-de-camp. It was General Dombrowski. 
 
 "Are you from Colonel Sarre s battalion?" he 
 asked pleasantly. 
 
 Philip saluted respectfully. " I am, mon Gn6- 
 ral." 
 
 " Where is Colonel Sarre? " 
 
 " Dead, General." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " An hour ago." 
 
 " And the battalion ? " 
 
 " Exterminated." 
 
 "In Meudon?" 
 
 " Partly in Bas-Meudon woods, partly while re 
 treating. We held the stone farm and the orchard 
 on the Clamart route until they brought cannon.
 
 THE WHITE ROAD. 351 
 
 We left Bas-Meudon woods with two hundred men ; 
 we reached the farm with fifty. They are all 
 dead." 
 
 "All?" 
 
 " All except Captain Weser s men." 
 
 General Dombrowski stood silent and thoughtful 
 for a moment, then his short military figure straight 
 ened up and he looked kindly at Philip. 
 
 " How did you escape, mon enfant? " 
 
 Philip told him very simply. 
 
 " And you say that it was the Zouaves who did 
 this shocking business ? " 
 
 " The Zouaves of Charette." 
 
 Angry murmurs began to rise from the crowd 
 around them : " The butchers ! So Thiers gives no 
 quarter ! We will remember the Zouaves of Cha 
 rette ! " 
 
 At a signal from Dombrowski an officer sum 
 moned the escort a troop of Polish cavalry, and 
 a moment later the General s horse and the horses 
 of the staff were brought out, girths tightened, and 
 the order given to mount. The crowd parted, the 
 cavalcade trotted away toward the river bank, and 
 Philip started on trudging wearily to Paris. As he 
 passed into the village street a woman dressed in 
 the regimental uniform of a Vivandiere stepped to 
 his side. 
 
 " Citizen," she said, " you need food and drink." 
 
 Philip turned slowly and looked her in the face. 
 It was Faustine Courtois. Her face was expression 
 less, but her eyes were soft and pitiful. Very gently 
 she slipped a loaf of bread, a piece of beef, and a
 
 352 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 bottle of red wine into his empty haversack, still 
 walking along beside him. 
 
 " Comrade, you Ve caught our pretty Vivan- 
 diere ! " cried a soldier, laughing. Philip turned 
 instantly to Faustine and held out his hand. 
 
 " Thank you, citoyenne," he said in a low voice. 
 
 "God bless you, comrade!" she murmured ; then 
 with a quick military salute she stood still, and he 
 walked on alone. 
 
 Half an hour later he threw himself down beside 
 the white military road and emptied his haversack 
 on the grass. A clear stream gurgled under a little 
 stone bridge that spanned the road below him. He 
 washed the grime from his face and hands and fell 
 to. He had not eaten since that hasty gammel of 
 soup on the fortifications before daylight and, tired 
 as he was, he devoured his bread and meat, and 
 drank his red wine with a keen relish. Then he lay 
 back against the trunk of a chestnut tree and looked 
 across to where the walls of Paris were in plain view. 
 He was not sleepy, but repose was delicious. Before 
 him the road wound away toward the city, passing 
 by two hamlets nestling among groves of sycamore 
 and chestnut, then curved out by the Point-du-Jour 
 through earthworks and rows of tents until it en 
 tered the city gate under the granite fortifications. 
 As far as he could see, the white road was deserted, 
 except by two quarrelling magpies. The magpies 
 were disputing noisily. They hopped and bounded 
 and flittered here and there, flirting their black and 
 white wings viciously, cocking their impudent bright 
 eyes, and piling insult upon insult, until Philip, deadly
 
 THE WHITE ROAD. 353 
 
 weary of noise and fighting, closed his eyes, hoping 
 they would carry their war into another region. A 
 few moments later he opened his eyes to see if they 
 were gone. Both birds were still in the road, but they 
 had become strangely silent. He soon discovered the 
 cause of this. A common danger threatened them. 
 A large cat, belly flattened to the ground, was stalk 
 ing the birds. They saw her. She crept nearer and 
 nearer, eyes glowing, body flat as a serpent s ; then 
 gathering herself together she crouched, trembling, 
 for the final spring. At that moment both birds 
 burst into screams of mockery and derision and 
 flitted away over the fields toward a distant dead 
 tree. Slowly the cat turned her head, watching them 
 until they disappeared across the meadow, then she 
 crept up to where they had sat in the road, sniffed 
 about, and finally rose with a disgusted jerk of her 
 tail. A moment later she turned like a flash, for 
 Philip had sprung to his feet and stood staring at 
 her, rubbing his eyes violently. At that instant a 
 solitary figure came into view around the curve in 
 the road, a woman who walked slowly and listlessly 
 with bared head bent. 
 
 " Tcherka ! " cried Philip. 
 
 The cat trotted toward him, hoisting a gorgeous 
 crimson tail and making pleased observations rap 
 idly. The woman started and raised her head with 
 a gesture of terror, but when he jumped down the 
 bank and sprang tov/ard her she threw out her hands, 
 with a soft cry, and in a moment more his arms 
 were around her and her face lay against his.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 
 
 THE sun was sinking into the battle smoke be 
 yond Clamart village. High in the zenith 
 the new moon hung, a faint crescent in the 
 rosy, evening sky. The rumble of war had died away 
 in the west, but still from the south deep muffled 
 intonations were borne on the spring winds, and 
 strangely shaped battle clouds climbed above the 
 horizon. The country around was quiet and peace 
 ful ; the solemn notes of the cannon grew less and 
 less frequent, and the awful voice of Mont-Val6rien 
 was stilled. 
 
 Jeanne de Brassac, smiling and happy, sat under 
 a tree in the meadow above the Paris road. Philip 
 lay at her feet, his chin on his hands, his scarlet fez 
 pushed back on his forehead. Tcherka was hunting 
 field-mice. If her success had been in proportion to 
 her enthusiasm, the field-mouse would have become 
 extinct in France. From an oak tree near by two 
 magpies jeered at her efforts until a small hedge- 
 sparrow aroused their ire and they disappeared in 
 headlong chase. 
 
 Philip and Jeanne had not said much after their 
 meeting. The swift clasp and clinging caress left 
 one of them happy and thoughtful, and the other
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 355 
 
 dazed. It had happened so suddenly, neither was 
 conscious of anything except that heart-sick terror 
 was gone and a dear face was there, unchanged. 
 Very sweetly she clung to him, now quiet and hope 
 ful, with his strong arm clasping her waist, and his 
 firm, young hand holding both of hers. That she 
 herself was safe now did not occur to her at first. 
 She only thought, " Philip is alive, Philip is unhurt, 
 here by my side." Of course, she was safe enough 
 now. Was not Philip there ? Did anything ever 
 stand against Philip ? A moment before, she had 
 been walking on the white military road, alone, pen 
 niless, not knowing, nor, for that matter, thinking, 
 where she might lay her head at night ; it was the 
 load of deadly foreboding for Philip which weighted 
 her young breast and bowed her head until her mind 
 grew numb with hopeless misery. Her future seemed 
 one long vista, dull and blank and full of sorrow. A 
 second had changed all that, the sound of a voice, 
 a swift step, a strong arm about her, ah, yes, one 
 glance into the dear eyes ! and sorrow and trouble 
 had vanished like broken bubbles. 
 
 They had told each other their little tales of danger 
 and mischance, but already, in her presence, the 
 dangers which lay behind him seemed so far away 
 and so insignificant that his story was finished in a 
 dozen words. Hers he listened to silently, touched 
 to the quick by her low voice. 
 
 " But, Jeanne, how came you to be in the garden 
 at that hour?" 
 
 " I could not sleep ; " after a pause she added, 
 " because of you."
 
 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Philip lay perfectly still, his chin on his hands, his 
 eyes fixed on hers. She met his gaze with one, clear 
 and serene, yet very sweet and wistful. He came 
 and knelt at her feet. She placed her white hands 
 on his shoulders, innocently, tenderly. How deep 
 her violet eyes were above her white cheeks ! He 
 bit his lip and trembled with the agony of silence, 
 but he would not speak. Oh, he had fought the 
 battle with himself again and again. He knew he 
 never tried to disguise from himself that to speak 
 to her of love while she was helplessly dependent 
 on his protection would be dishonorable. And 
 his love, passionate, almost fierce as it was at times 
 from restraint, had never yet mastered his will. But 
 her innocent tenderness, her open, fond affection, 
 together with the joy of finding her, were straining 
 his powers of self-control to their utmost. 
 
 " Marguerite," she began again in her low, thrill 
 ing voice, still keeping her hands on Philip s shoul 
 ders, " Marguerite thinks I am nothing but a child 
 and perhaps she is right. But I did not feel like a 
 child when I was weeping for you last night in our 
 garden, and I said then that if God would let me 
 see you once more I would tell you that oh, 
 Philip ! there is no one in all the world whom I 
 love as I do you." 
 
 He bent his head, a single bright drop of blood 
 fell from his lips on the grass. He strove after the 
 right, safe words to answer. She took her hands 
 from his shoulders. He looked up and saw her draw 
 ing back, bewildered, dismayed at his silence, and he 
 cried out : " Jeanne ! don t you understand ! I al-
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 357 
 
 ways loved you always! from the moment, on that 
 Christmas eve, when I first saw you, a mere child ; 
 from that moment your face has haunted me your 
 voice, your eyes, your hair, your hands ; I love 
 you so much and so truly that I have tried to be 
 silent. Oh, Jeanne, I have tried ! I did not mean 
 to take advantage of my guardianship I never 
 meant to violate that trust ; and now I have failed ; 
 whether because I loved you too much, or too little, 
 I do not know but this I know, that your affection 
 for me is returned as purely, as innocently as it is 
 given. And some day, if God is merciful and keeps 
 you safe, I shall come to you, among your own 
 people, and offer you myself, my life, all I am or 
 hope to be ; you will listen then, Jeanne ? " 
 
 Almost humbly she answered, recognizing and 
 worshipping the ardor, the vital force which she did 
 not yet understand : 
 
 " You must teach me how to listen, Philip." 
 
 He took her hand and kissed it, trembling. 
 
 "I will teach you, Jeanne and and I will wait!" 
 
 They stood up together, a little dazed, as Tcherka 
 came trotting up. 
 
 " Here s Tcherka, blessed cat ! " said Philip, smil 
 ing with an effort. 
 
 Jeanne mechanically stooped to caress her. 
 
 " Jeanne," said Philip, mischievously, " say 
 Toodles ! " 
 
 " loo-dells, Monsieur ! " cried Jeanne, indignantly. 
 " But I should like to know, if you please, where you 
 are going to take me. Do you see it is almost dark ? 
 and the gates at the Point-du-Jour will be closed."
 
 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " I have been thinking," he answered, with a 
 secret thrill in her perfect trust, " that perhaps it is 
 as well that we can t get into Paris just yet, until 
 we hear the result of the battle. And I don t like 
 to take you back to the little village ; it s full of 
 Federals. I see the roof of a farm-house a few steps 
 beyond the curve of the road there. You must have 
 passed it in coming." 
 
 " I did ; a young man came to the hedge and 
 called after me as I passed. I did not understand 
 what he said, and I kept on without replying. Shall 
 we go and see if we can get shelter there ? I am 
 very hungry." 
 
 " Yes, we 11 try it. Hungry ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I have not eaten since early this morning 
 on the fortifications. Madame Cartier, your poor 
 captain s mother, gave me some breakfast." 
 
 "What, Jeanne?" 
 
 " Not much," she admitted ; " a glass of wine, 
 some bread. She had to force me to eat it. She 
 was very good to me 
 
 " And you Ve eaten nothing since that, and now 
 it is almost night ! " 
 
 Making her sit down again he pulled the provi 
 sions from his haversack, constructed a sandwich 
 from the bread and beef, opened the bottle, and 
 handed her a tin cup. With a gay laugh she bit a 
 piece as best she could out of the sandwich, and 
 soon held up the cup to be filled. The wine ran 
 out. "Why, Philip, there is a hole in the cup! 
 it s a bullet hole," she added quietly. 
 
 " Oh, yes I forget well you 11 have to drink
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 359 
 
 out of the bottle then. I 11 hold it." She put up 
 her pretty mouth, and he tipped the bottle, as he 
 thought with great dexterity, until she waved the 
 sandwich for him to take it away again. 
 
 " Oh, dear me," she gasped, " what a perfectly 
 untidy person I shall be ! Look where the wine has 
 dripped ! " 
 
 " Look at my uniform \you need not feel em 
 barrassed ! " 
 
 " My handkerchief is all wine lend me yours," 
 she implored. 
 
 " I wish I had one," he said pathetically ; " will 
 this do ? " and he cut off a piece of his red sash. 
 She took it laughingly, and begged him to give 
 Tcherka some more meat. 
 
 " She shall have woodcock on toast some day," 
 said Philip. " Did n t she bring you to me ? " 
 
 "The darling! " cried Jeanne ; " cut the meat up 
 fine, Philip." 
 
 When Tcherka had finished Philip picked her up 
 and they descended the bank to the wood, and 
 walked toward the red-roofed farm-house which 
 stood just beyond the curve. When they reached 
 the gate and entered the gravel path that led to the 
 door, a young man came out carrying a lantern and 
 a set of harness. He looked sharply at them, 
 raising the lantern above his head. 
 
 " Good-evening, citizen," said Philip ; " can we 
 get a bowl of soup and shelter here for to-night?" 
 
 " Can you pay ? " asked the man. 
 
 Philip was silent. He had n t a sou. 
 
 " I have a watch," whispered Jeanne.
 
 360 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Philip nodded. " Yes, we can pay, citizen," he said. 
 
 The man hesitated. " I shall have two officers 
 here to dinner," he said, after a moment ; " I can 
 get you a bowl of soup before they come." 
 
 "All right we won t keep them from the table," 
 replied Philip. 
 
 The man pointed to the door. " The table is 
 there. I must harness my horse first. Go in." He 
 turned away toward the stable, and Philip and 
 Jeanne walked into the cottage. In the room on 
 the ground floor a table stood by the fireplace. 
 Philip drew two chairs beside it and they sat down 
 to wait. In a few minutes the man reappeared out 
 side, leading a horse attached to a dog-cart. He set 
 down his lantern, hitched the horse to the hedge in 
 the garden, and then entered the cottage. 
 
 " I hope we do not inconvenience you too much, 
 Monsieur," said Jeanne, politely. 
 
 She had made a bad mistake. Philip saw it in 
 stantly. "Monsieur" was obsolete in the Com 
 mune s vocabulary ; " citizen " was the shibboleth. 
 
 The man turned slowly toward her ; his narrow 
 eyes glittered. 
 
 " No, Madame" he said, " you do not inconven 
 ience me." 
 
 The soup, in two earthen bowls, was hot and nour 
 ishing. It was what they both needed. The man sat 
 down beside Philip and glanced over his uniform. 
 
 " You are one of Colonel Sarre s Turcos, citizen ? " 
 
 " Yes, citizen." 
 
 " You were peppered ? " 
 
 " Passably well peppered."
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 361 
 
 " They say Flourens is killed." 
 
 " He s not the only one then." 
 
 " No, no, not the only one," said the man, stealing 
 a glance at Jeanne. Philip watched him without 
 seeming to do so. 
 
 " They say Dombrowski is at the village yonder," 
 said the man again. 
 
 " Yes. I have the honor of accompanying the 
 citizen General," replied Philip. 
 
 " Oh," said the man, more respectfully, " are you 
 the Turco he has as ordonnance ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Philip, lying deliberately. The man 
 cast another swift glance at Jeanne, and then rose 
 and beckoned Philip to follow. 
 
 " Here, citizen," said the man, as they entered the 
 small room beyond, which was filled with farming 
 implements and garden tools, " just oblige me by 
 reading that," and he pointed to a new placard 
 pasted on the bare wall. 
 
 It was the placard offering a reward for " les nom- 
 mes Landes and Ellice," and for the " Citoyennes 
 de Brsfssac and de St. Brieuc." The man pointed 
 eagerly to the description of Jeanne. His narrow 
 eyes sparkled. 
 
 " The powder has almost blinded me, citizen, 
 read it aloud," said Philip. As the man stepped 
 forward and began to read in a low voice, Philip 
 picked up a wooden mallet from the bench behind 
 him and quietly examined the head. The man fin 
 ished and turned to him eagerly. 
 
 " Five thousand francs reward for the woman," he 
 whispered.
 
 302 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " But where is she?" demanded Philip. 
 
 " In there ! Don t you see it is the same ? I saw 
 her coming along the road two hours ago, and I 
 thought it might be she, but when I went to find her 
 she was gone. I sent my boy to notify the village 
 yonder to watch out." 
 
 " But but you would n t betray this poor wo 
 man 
 
 " Bah ! She s an aristocrat. And to think you 
 did n t know what sort of hussy you had picked up 
 for a night s frolic ! Half the reward is mine, com 
 rade, I only claim half oh ! oh ! mon Dieu ! " 
 
 Twice Philip swung his mallet on the man s skull, 
 and now he lay beside the rakes and shovels on the 
 damp floor of the tool-room. At the same moment 
 there came heavy steps and the banging of a sabre 
 from the court-yard outside. With one searching 
 look at the prostrate man s face, Philip shut the 
 door, locked it, and dropping the key into his pocket 
 entered the dining-room. An officer stood, cap in 
 hand, bowing very politely to Jeanne ; when Philip 
 entered he glanced at his uniform and drew himself 
 up a little to receive the expected salute. The 
 Turco did not salute in the fashion expected ; in 
 stead of that he sprang toward the officer and seized 
 both his hands. " Archie Wilton ! you re a God 
 send to me! " 
 
 " Landes ! Philip Landes! " cried Wilton. 
 
 " Come here." Philip pulled him into the hall 
 way, opened the tool-room, and showed him the man 
 on the floor. " I don t think I ve killed him, but I 
 had to stop his mouth," and he hurriedly told Wilton
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 363 
 
 how it happened that he was there with Mademoiselle 
 de Brassac, and how helpless they were without 
 knowledge of the country and in danger of being 
 recognized and arrested for the reward. 
 
 " And I have n t one sou, Archie, not a cent to 
 bless myself " 
 
 Wilton took a full minute to recover his faculties. 
 Then he pulled out a fat purse and handed it to Philip. 
 " Here ! " he said, with his boyish laugh, " I never 
 meet you but you ve been punching somebody s 
 head I suppose you 11 punch mine if I don t give 
 you this ! There s a big roll of gold in it I forget 
 how much." 
 
 " But you 11 need it." 
 
 "No; I d only blow it in. Besides, I 11 get more." 
 
 " You are a good fellow. Wilton," said Philip, 
 deeply moved. 
 
 " All right. What about the party with the cracked 
 skull ? What will you do with him ? " 
 
 "Gag him and leave him here locked in?" sug 
 gested Landes. 
 
 " No ; better have him arrested as a suspect, then 
 if he does recover he won t bother Mademoiselle de 
 Brassac. I Ve an ordonnance at the gate. He 11 
 sling the fellow across his saddle and gallop him 
 into the Point-du-Jour." 
 
 They dragged the unconscious man through the 
 room where Jeanne, who had heard the struggle and 
 muffled cries, was standing pale and quiet, and at 
 the garden gate they hoisted their burden to the 
 saddle-bow of a trooper who sat unconcerned on his 
 sweating horse.
 
 364 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Picard, here s a suspect. Run him in to Mazas 
 by the Point-du-Jour," said Wilton. The trooper 
 saluted, grasped the limp form by the waistband, 
 shook the bridle, and was off along the Paris route. 
 
 " Seems a low-down trick," muttered Landes, 
 looking after him. " But it s our lives or his 
 
 " Yes, and it seems to me he was getting ready 
 with a trick of his own," said Wilton. Philip s face 
 hardened as he remembered how the man had spoken 
 of Jeanne. 
 
 " Now what in blazes can I get as a disguise for 
 Mademoiselle de Brassac, I wonder/ pondered Archie 
 " and for you too. If they find you wandering 
 about in that uniform they 11 shoot you as a deserter. 
 Look here, I m going back to the village to steal 
 some clothes for you I was going to dine herewith 
 another officer but he s er incapacitated by drink 
 from keeping his engagement. He won t miss his 
 uniform at present, and I 11 borrow it for you. If 
 I can find some woman s clothes I will. If not, 
 Mademoiselle de Brassac has got to wear what I can 
 find." 
 
 " Not not men s clothes ! " 
 
 " She can take her choice," said Wilton, vaulting 
 into the saddle ; " wear them or run the risk of get 
 ting caught and mighty soon too I heard she had 
 been seen before I came here a boy brought the 
 news, and the whole village will be after that five 
 thousand francs. She s young and slender and as 
 straight as an arrow, and if she wears the pointed 
 hood and long loose rain cloak over her cap and 
 uniform you know she 11 be invisible, all but her
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 365 
 
 boots and spurs and the tip of her nose. You d 
 better advise her to accept it if necessary unless 
 you want Raoul Rigault to get her 
 
 " She will do so if it is necessary," said Philip, 
 stiffly. Wilton wheeled his horse. " I 11 be back 
 in no time," he called. 
 
 Philip stood a moment while he galloped off, then 
 turned and entered the house. Jeanne was standing 
 by the table where he had left her. When he told 
 her what he had done she shuddered a little. Then 
 there was an awkward pause. 
 
 " Will you wear an officer s uniform if Wilton can t 
 get anything better ? " asked Philip, flushing and 
 looking away from her. 
 
 " Of course I will wear whatever you think best," 
 she answered quietly. " How will the things 
 come ? " 
 
 " I don t know," he replied and sat down a little 
 apart from her, resting his head on his clenched fist. 
 His face had become grey and drawn, his eyes stern 
 and hard. Tcherka jumped on the table and walked 
 over to rub against his shoulder. He looked up. 
 " What shall we do with the cat," he said, irritably, 
 " we can t carry her about now." 
 
 " Could n t we possibly take her along?" asked 
 Jeanne, timidly. 
 
 " Really, Jeanne," he said, a little sharply, " you 
 can t expect me to risk your life for a cat." 
 
 " Very well," she answered gently, holding out 
 her hand to Tcherka who marched over to her at 
 once. Jeanne took the cat s beautiful head in both 
 hands and kissed it ; there were tears in her eyes and
 
 366 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 she kept the lids down so that Philip should not see 
 them ; but he saw them. 
 
 " Would n t it be more merciful to shoot her than 
 to leave her? Soldiers are so cruel," asked Jeanne. 
 
 " She shall come with us for the present," he an 
 swered ; " we won t part with her unless we are 
 forced to. My dearest little Jeanne, if you were 
 only somewhere safe I would bring you your cat 
 through thick and thin," he added, smiling sadly. 
 " I am so nervous on your account, don t be hurt 
 if I am irritable." 
 
 " Hurt ! And you who are thinking only of me, 
 never once of yourself ! Is it on my life that the 
 price is fixed ? Could I not buy my safety any 
 moment with those miserable diamonds ? But you ! 
 What price could buy your life from Raoul Rigault. 
 And it is for me you fear ! oh! Philip " 
 
 " Nonsense, I 
 
 " You are the most generous, as you are the 
 bravest man alive," she said proudly. "No girl ever 
 had such a such " she stumbled a little, and then 
 went on, her voice clear and steady. " No woman 
 ever had such a lover as you. I am not worthy of 
 you but if I could give my life for yours, I would." 
 
 " You will give me your life some day," he 
 murmured. 
 
 " I will," she answered, " when you ask it." 
 
 How he longed to take her to his breast, to 
 hold her close and trembling, to touch her hair, 
 her eyes, to kiss her hands ! She was so gentle, so 
 winning in her innocence, so helpless, so dependent. 
 But the time had come when he dared not trust
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO, 367 
 
 the slightest caress ; and he was true to himself. He 
 went to the door and looked down the dark road. 
 There was a sound of distant galloping which came 
 nearer and nearer until a rider, all muffled and 
 shrouded, swept up and drew bridle as Philip hurried 
 down to the gate. The horse, ghostly and gaunt 
 was dripping from bit and flank, the rider sat with 
 shadowy face bent on Landes : and his heart sank 
 as he saw it was a Hussar of Death. 
 
 " What do you want ? " he asked, with dry lips. 
 
 " You ! " croaked the man, and grinned maliciously 
 as Philip drew back a step. Slowly he took a bundle 
 and a letter from his saddle pouch, and, flinging them 
 on the ground, wheeled his lank horse away into the 
 darkness again. 
 
 " Damn their theatricals ! " muttered Philip, angry 
 at himself for having been so startled. The dead 
 ened hoof-beats died away along the road, and he 
 picked up the letter and parcel and carried them into 
 the cottage, his heart heavy with foreboding. He 
 broke the seal of the letter and read it aloud : 
 
 "DEAR PHILIP: 
 
 " My battalion marches toward Issy in ten min 
 utes, the bugles are sounding now. Orders just in 
 from Dombrowski who takes command. I send your 
 clothes by messenger. There is no answer let him 
 go it "s one of those goblin Hussars of Death and 
 they are the devil for snooping and spying. Take 
 care of your lovely charge! Goodness knows I wish 
 I could help you out, but I am only a pawn on the 
 board. There is one thing I can do and I enclose
 
 368 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 the necessary order. It will keep you safe until you 
 can turn yourself a little. I m off. 
 
 " ARCHIE WILTON." 
 
 Enclosed in this hasty letter, Philip found an offi 
 cial looking document : 
 
 " Headquarters of the Army in the Field. 
 
 "April 5th, 1871. 
 
 " Orders given to the citizen Archibald Wilton, 
 commanding the 266th Battalion to detail two or 
 more officers at La Resida for the purpose of in 
 specting all milk, poultry, fresh vegetables, eggs, 
 and fruit, in requisition and to be delivered at the 
 Point-du-Jour as occasion requires for the garrison. 
 (Signed) " DOMBROWSKI." 
 
 To this was attached a slip of paper : 
 
 " Detailed for service, Lieutenants Dupre and 
 Fabrice of the Subsistence Department, now serving 
 as special aides on my staff. 
 
 (Signed) " ARCHIBALD WILTON, 
 
 " Colonel." 
 
 And again to this was attached a bit of paper on 
 which was scribbled : 
 
 " La Resida is a village of three houses on the 
 Varzin Route. You 11 be alone and unmolested. 
 There s a servant there. Follow the road which 
 turns south by the cottage where you now are. It 
 takes two hours to drive there, four to walk. 
 
 " ARCHIE.
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 369 
 
 " P. S. A word to the wise. Use the dog-cart. 
 The man won t mind, being in Mazas Prison for a 
 month or so. You can keep it too if you don t 
 mind. The horse will need looking after while his 
 master is enjoying the hospitality of the Commune. 
 
 " A. W." 
 
 Jeanne meanwhile had opened the parcel. Two 
 complete uniforms of officers of the Subsistence 
 Department lay in the papers. They were brand 
 new. Pinned to the sleeve of one of the dolmans 
 was a card : 
 
 " I did n t have to steal after all. These are fresh 
 from the Equipment Bureau and I found them in 
 the train-des-equipages just arrived. If a tringlot 
 comes with a bill to La Resida, pay him you have 
 enough. A. W." 
 
 " The d dear old fellow ! " cried Philip, stammer 
 ing with happiness. 
 
 Jeanne gathered up the smaller suit, including the 
 black kepi, the slim spurred boots, and the pointed 
 hood and cape, and slipped away into the kitchen, 
 closing the door behind her. Philip threw off his 
 Turco costume and put on the new uniform with a 
 sigh of relief, for it was clean and fresh, and fitted 
 much better than the heavy baggy Turco dress. As 
 he drew his visored silver-edge cap over his eyes 
 there came a knocking from the kitchen door. 
 
 " Come in, Jeanne, I m ready," he cried. 
 
 With charming timidity she walked in and stood 
 still, a picture of delightful confusion. Under the
 
 3/0 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 visor of her cap, her eyes, veiled by the long lashes, 
 drooped a little ; her scarlet lips were nervously 
 compressed, her cheeks crimson. The astrakhan- 
 edged dolman fitted her lithe body to perfection. 
 Above the tight officers boots, which came almost 
 to her knee, her young limbs seemed rounded 
 and moulded into the black riding breeches with 
 their triple dark-blue stripe. She touched the hilt 
 of her sword, glancing shyly at Philip, and, as she 
 moved, her spurred heels rang on the tiled floor. 
 
 " A perfect soldier ! A swordsman ! A swords 
 man ! " he cried, marvelling at her grace and 
 beauty. 
 
 " But my hair my hair is very unmilitary, 
 Philip!" 
 
 " You can draw the hood on." 
 
 " Of course ; and that with the long cloak will 
 make me look like a common soldier! and I m an 
 officer ! I shall cut my hair," she announced. 
 
 " I d like to see you ! " he cried, " you little Ama 
 zon ! " 
 
 " But I will," she persisted, mutinously, " and I 
 like this costume a soldier s ! I feel so free I 
 believe I hate skirts ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 "I do ! " she laughed. There was a slightly 
 strained tone of excitement in her laugh. The 
 long strain of weeks, the series of shocks she had 
 endured so quietly and bravely for two days past 
 were telling on her nerves. This feverish gaiety was 
 a revulsion from the cruel suffering of suspense. It 
 would lead to a crisis unless he interposed.
 
 COMMISSIONS FOR TWO. 3/1 
 
 "Jeanne," he began 
 
 " Lieutenant, if you please," she interrupted, 
 laughing almost hysterically. 
 
 " Jeanne," he repeated, " I must clear up here be 
 fore we go ; will you help me ? Have you your own 
 clothes ? No ? Get them at once and make a bun 
 dle, as small as you can, then take Tcherka and 
 go and sit in the dog-cart until I come. Hold on to 
 Tcherka, for we Ve no time to chase her if she takes 
 it into her head to run away. I must go and hide 
 my Turco suit." 
 
 He looked around the tool-room and found a 
 spade, and, going into the garden, dug a hole large 
 enough to accommodate his Turco s costume. Then 
 he returned to the house, put out the lamp, shut 
 and locked the door, and joined Jeanne, whom he 
 found sitting in the dog-cart. She had put on the 
 long hooded cloak, and she looked very meek now, 
 hugging Tcherka to her breast. 
 
 " Good," he said, unhitching the horses and 
 springing to the seat beside her. "You will need 
 your cloak, it is going to be a cool drive." He 
 glanced into her face. It was quite white, all trace 
 of excitement was gone, and she looked terribly 
 fatigued. He wrapped his own cloak about her feet, 
 muffled her hands in the warm folds, and then delib 
 erately put his arm around her neck and drew her 
 head down to his shoulder. 
 
 " Sleep if you can," he whispered, giving the 
 reins a shake, and the dog-cart swung into the Varzin 
 road due south from the Route de Paris.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS. 
 
 THE great sortie to Versailles, conceived and 
 directed by Bergeret " himself," had failed 
 utterly. Flourens column had been repulsed 
 and driven through the Porte Maillot and Flourens 
 lay dead in the road with his crazy head split open 
 by a gendarme s sabre. Bergeret s column, with the 
 exception of the 1st Turcos and the Hussars of 
 Death, had made good time toward the Point-du- 
 Jour, headed by Bergeret " himself." Eudes was 
 anxiously dodging behind the bomb-proofs of Issy 
 with the fragments of his command, and Duval s 
 column, righting bravely, was slowly retreating from 
 the shambles of Meudon and Clamart. Duval, with 
 his entire staff, had been captured late in the day, 
 and, in harmony with Monsieur Thiers ideas of civil 
 ized warfare, had been backed up against a wall and 
 shot without court-martial. He met death gallantly, 
 quietly removed and folded his jacket, placed it on 
 the grass, and throwing open his shirt front cried : 
 " Long live the Republic ! Aim ! Fire ! " And old 
 General Vinoy who stood by, gnawing his moustache, 
 growled : " C etait un crane bougre, il est mort 
 comme un bon bougre!" 
 
 The Army of the Commune was in fragments, 
 and from the Hotel de Ville a howl went up which 
 
 372
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS. 3/3 
 
 chilled the Parisians to the marrow. The howl was 
 answered by one still more sinister from Cluseret. 
 
 In 1848 Cluseret was a Mobile, later he was a Cap 
 tain in the Foot Chasseurs, but his resignation was 
 requested on account of some alleged irregularity 
 in money matters. Then he went to America and 
 became a General during the War of Secession, 
 but history is silent as to his exploits. When he 
 returned to Paris he edited a newspaper. According 
 to his own statement, "he had n t read very much," 
 but he signed his articles " General Cluseret," and 
 that went a great way with himself, although it 
 shocked the professional sense of the Paris press. 
 
 Hardly was h^. installed in the Hotel de Ville 
 before he began to issue decrees at such a rate that 
 the Government printer resigned his position. 
 
 The first decree re-established the Compagnies de 
 Marche of the National Guard. It read as follows : 
 
 " In consequence of the patriotic demand of the great mass of the 
 National Guard, who, although married, insist on being accorded the 
 honor of defending their country and their municipal independence, 
 the decree of the 5th of April is modified as follows : 
 
 " 1st. From the age of seventeen to nineteen, service in the Army 
 of the Commune will be voluntary ; and from the age of nineteen 
 to forty, obligatory for all National Guards whether married or not. 
 
 " 2cl. I urge all good patriots to serve as police for their own 
 city wards and to force all refractory persons to serve in the Army of 
 the Commune." 
 
 This infamous decree was signed : 
 " Le delegue a la guerre,. 
 
 " GENERAL CLUSERET." 
 
 According to its terms, a citizen would be forced 
 to serve, in civil war, a cause which might be odious
 
 374 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 to him. No measure was more unpopular or did 
 more injury to the cause of the Commune. It 
 organized and legalized the search for and pursuit 
 of neutral citizens, anywhere and everywhere, in 
 the streets, in their homes, in the very churches, 
 even at the foot of the high altar. 
 
 But General Cluseret s second decree was des 
 tined to dim the lustre of the first, for in it he estab 
 lished military terror the Court-Martial. 
 
 Raoul Rigault looked askance at these proceedings, 
 fearing no doubt that they would take away from 
 him people whom he might prefer to murder himself, 
 so he redoubled his " vigilance " and the prisons were 
 gorged with priests. 
 
 Meanwhile at Versailles, MacMahon took command, 
 always, of course, under the foxy eye of Monsieur 
 Thiers ; and now the Army of Versailles was com 
 posed of two strong infantry corps and a heavy corps 
 of cavalry, besides two divisions of infantry held as 
 reserve. MacMahon lost no time. On the 6th of 
 April the outer line of forts was besieged ; on the /th, 
 the Versaillists reached Gennevilliers ; the 8th, 
 Montaudon s division fell upon the bridge of Neuilly 
 and swept it clean ; on the 9th, de Gallifet s chas 
 seurs galloped into Courbevoie ; and on the i/th 
 Davoust led the assault on the famous Chateau of 
 Becon which was the key to Gennevilliers. On the 
 1 8th, a regiment of gendarmes chased the Federalsout 
 of Bois-de-Colombes ; the iQth, the Hussars of Death, 
 the Polish Riders, the Garibaldians, and the 34th 
 de marche were hurled across the bridge of 
 Asnieres and fled pell-mell into Paris. Had it not
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS. 375 
 
 been for Dombrowski, the passage of the Seine 
 would have been open to the Versailles Army. 
 
 " You cowards ! " he cried, spurring his horse 
 through the flying insurgents, " must a Polish officer 
 give lessons in courage to Frenchmen ! " And he 
 pushed himself, followed by his staff, straight into 
 the enemy s fire, crying : " No cowards need follow 
 me ! " The Federals heard him, rallied and charged, 
 and the bridge was saved. 
 
 General Cluseret, " del^gu^ a la guerre," selected 
 three lieutenants, and to do him justice he selected 
 them fairly well. The best of the three was Dom 
 browski, who was intrusted with the lines of defense 
 from Saint-Ouen to the Point-du-Jour, and who 
 established his headquarters at La Muette. His 
 strategy and defense were admirable. 
 
 The second of these lieutenants was Wrobleski, 
 another Pole, who probably knew more than most 
 of the gentlemen at the Hotel de Ville and certainly 
 knew more than Cluseret, but he was not the equal 
 of Dombrowski. Wrobleski commanded the lines 
 from the Point-du-Jour to Bercy. 
 
 The third man selected by General Cluseret was 
 La Cecilia, a well-bred, harmless gentleman, who 
 spoke or understood twenty-six languages, and 
 passed for an erudite mathematician ; but, although 
 he had distinguished himself as a Colonel of franc- 
 tireurs in the Franco-Prussian war, he was no Gen 
 eral, and would have done much better to have 
 remained a simple Colonel. 
 
 With these three men Cluseret might have done 
 something ; he ought to have done a great deal,
 
 376 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 but, like Monsieur Thiers, he " did nothing," and did 
 it almost as energetically as Monsieur Thiers. Then 
 the pack in the Hotel de Ville fell on him, as it had 
 fallen with him on others. 
 
 " Cluseret is an incapable ! " shouted Arnold. 
 
 " Cluseret is a fool ! " yelled Vaillant. 
 
 " Cluseret is a suspect ! " added Clovis Dupont, with 
 a cold sneer. 
 
 That settled it ; the word " suspect " always settled 
 things. Cluseret was relieved of his command, 
 cashiered, and a decree was issued, which after many 
 preambles ended thus: 
 
 " It is decreed 
 
 " That the Citizen Cluseret be placed under arrest, and so main 
 tained until the end of the present military operations." 
 
 So Raoul Rigault had his grip on Cluseret s throat ; 
 and Rossel, the same day, stepped into Cluseret s 
 shoes. 
 
 The abandonment of the fort of Issy was Cluseret s 
 last act ; the recapture of that fortress was Rossel s 
 first act. 
 
 On the 29th of April the Versailles batteries at 
 Meudon and Breteuil pounded the last semblance of 
 shape and form out of the fort of Issy, and in spite 
 of the armored trains which opened fire from the 
 viaduct of the Point-du-Jour, in spite of the gun 
 boats and the terrible storm from bastions 76 and 
 77, the Versaillists advanced by Clamart and Mou- 
 lineaux, occupying the park and trenches of the Issy 
 fort, and rapidly threw up breastworks which pro 
 tected them from the musketry fusilade. The bom-
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS. 377 
 
 bardment ceased at midnight, but when the day 
 broke the batteries of Val-Fleury thundered, and the 
 smoking ruins of Issy were again covered with burst 
 ing shells. All day long the exhausted garrison 
 crouched among the debris, and when night came, 
 their commander having fled, they crept out of the 
 crumbling crater and entered Paris at the Point-du- 
 Jour. The fort had fallen, the Versailles troops were 
 already crawling cautiously over the trenches and 
 glacis, when Colonel Rossel, at the head of the Hus 
 sars of Death and the remnants of the 1st Turcos, 
 burst through the Issy cemetery, swept the Versailles 
 troops from the Park, the Chateau, and the Couvent 
 des Oiseaux, and once more the red flag of the 
 Commune flapped from the iron staff on the ruins of 
 the Issy fort. 
 
 Until the Qth of May, the handful of men of the 
 1st Turcos clung to the fort of Issy, now in ruins. 
 The crash of their siege guns and the rattle of their 
 American Catlings comforted the wrangling patriots 
 at the Hotel de Ville ; but the fort of Issy was 
 doomed, and on the evening of the pth of May the 
 walls of Paris were placarded with this poster : 
 
 " THE TRICOLOR FLOATS FROM THE FORT OF ISSY ; 
 THE FIRST BATTALION OF PARIS TURCOS IS ABSOLUTELY 
 ANNIHILATED. 
 
 " LE DELEGUE A LA GUERRE, 
 (SIGNED) " ROSSEL."
 
 378 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Then the Hotel de Ville shrieked " Treason ! " but 
 Rossel stalked into their midst, sternly reproaching 
 them for their inaction. 
 
 " I asked you for artillery and infantry, and you 
 delayed. Where is the treason ? " he cried. " I 
 asked you for a general, and you sent me a seedy 
 professor; I asked for colonels, majors, captains, and 
 you sent me bakers, butchers, and political scaven 
 gers ! Where is the treason? Your quarrelling 
 committees have paralyzed my every movement, 
 your feeble hesitation has lost me my fort." Then 
 turning disdainfully to Delescluze, he said : " I resign, 
 and I have the honor to request of you a cell in 
 Mazas Prison ! " 
 
 The Central Committee gaped at him in amaze 
 ment. Delescluze frowned, and turning to Billioray, 
 muttered : " Do you hear what he asks ? " 
 
 " I do," sneered Billioray ; "give him his cell, and 
 come to dinner." 
 
 Of the three hundred men, the remnants of the 
 1st Battalion of Paris Turcos, only one escaped 
 destruction in the fort of Issy. With his company 
 which had fled from Bas-Meudon woods and with 
 Pagot s company from the barricade in the rue 
 Notre Dame, Weser had marched through the Issy 
 cemetery and had been present when the troops, led 
 by Rossel, swept the Versaillists from trench and 
 rifle pit and regained the fort ; but the lines of in 
 vestment grew tighter day by day, and on the 
 morning of the Qth of May the Zouaves of Charette 
 fell once more upon the crumbling fort. It was over 
 in a few minutes, no quarter being given, and the
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS. 379 
 
 tricolor fluttered gaily over the heaped up corpses. 
 Isidor Weser, the night before, had foreseen this. 
 He did not require very long to make up his mind 
 as to what he should do. Pagot, half divining his 
 intention, kept a keen eye on him. 
 
 " Izzy," he growled, "if you ever try to desert 
 your men, I 11 see that you go farther than 
 Paris." 
 
 "You mean to heaven?" 
 
 " I mean to hell." 
 
 So when, on the night of the 8th of May, Weser 
 crept out of the bomb-proof, Pagot, lurking behind 
 the ruined barracks, saw him steal across the parade, 
 and promptly confronted him. 
 
 "Where are you going, Izzy?" he enquired. 
 
 " I ve got a bullet in my foot," replied Weser, 
 " I m going to the hospital." 
 
 " Curious! You don t limp," mused Pagot. 
 
 " Look for yourself, then," said Weser, sticking 
 out one tattered shoe. 
 
 Pagot stooped and took the foot in his hands. 
 
 " Where is it ? Does it hurt, Izzy ? " 
 
 " It is very painful." 
 
 " But I don t see " began Pagot. 
 
 " Don t you ? " snarled Weser, burying a knife in 
 his back, " so sorry, but I must go now." 
 
 And so it happened that Isidor Weser, a little 
 foot-sore and with wary eyes on the watch, walked 
 into the bureau at the Hotel de Ville, where Tribert 
 sat comfortably copying orders and decrees. Tribert 
 eyed him in surprise, and his surprise changed to 
 something else when Weser began to relate his feats
 
 380 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 of prowess, in what he asserted was the last assault 
 on the Issy fort. 
 
 " It s marvellous that I alone was saved to tell 
 the tale," he ended fervently. 
 
 " Yes," said Tribert, " it is really marvellous." 
 
 " I fought like a demon 
 
 "As usual," observed Tribert. 
 
 " All my men were down, the cannon thundered 
 and the air was literally solid with shot and shell. 
 Poor Pagot fell with a bullet in his heart 
 
 " So when he lost his heart you lost yours." 
 
 "The bastions crumbled into dust, the ground was 
 wet with blood, blood flowed through the trenches, 
 blood splashed in the rifle pits blood ran " 
 
 " So you ran." 
 
 Weser paused and fixed his bright black eyes 
 on Tribert s face. " Don t you believe me?" 
 
 " No, Izzy." 
 
 "What are you going to do ? " said Weser, softly. 
 
 Half an hour later, Weser, in a fresh uniform of 
 a staff-officer, filed his marvellous report of the Issy 
 massacre, and settled down to write orders in 
 Tribert s bureau. 
 
 He would have felt himself very comfortable but 
 for what he knew Tribert suspected, and what he 
 feared Tribert might know and his peace of mind 
 was also ruffled by a vile habit Tribert had of 
 saying things to frighten him. 
 
 " Izzy," he observed, one very pleasant afternoon 
 when Weser felt like enjoying himself, " Izzy, the 
 Commune is on its last legs. We shall all be shot 
 soon, when Monsieur Thiers comes back."
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS. 381 
 
 " Bah ! " replied Weser, valiantly, but his blood 
 was chilled. 
 
 " Officers will get no quarter," continued Tribert ; 
 " Raoul Rigault and you will probably be tor 
 tured." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Weser, angrily. " When is Raoul 
 Rigault going to shoot those priests? " 
 
 " Soon, I hope he s slow. The old Darboy has 
 been kept waiting too long for his cong. I d have 
 hung him long ago." 
 
 " Yes, Raoul is slow sometimes, unaccountably 
 slow." 
 
 " But he s sure, Izzy, and I think he s got his 
 eye on you," said Tribert, with clumsy malice. 
 
 " He s a lunatic ! " muttered Weser, quailing. 
 
 " No I think only a little fond of killing. We re 
 none of us safe, Izzy, with him now that he has 
 begun to turn suspicion on the Central Committee. 
 Yesterday he arrested Rossel, to-day he denounces 
 Eudes, to-morrow it may be even Delescluze " 
 
 " Or you, or me," suggested Weser, slyly, detect 
 ing a tremor through Tribert s bravado. " And he s 
 not very clever after all ; I wonder why we let him 
 frighten us," continued Weser, feeling he was get 
 ting the upper hand ; " for instance, after all the 
 pains he took to catch the American, Landes, he 
 never caught him." 
 
 " Landes," repeated Tribert in an ominous voice. 
 
 " Yes," said Weser, pretending not to understand 
 " don t you remember him ? You ought to, he s 
 left his mark on your face 
 
 Tribert burst into a rage so wild that Weser seized
 
 382 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 his portfolio and fled to the next room, where he 
 locked himself in and sat down and laughed until 
 his bead-like eyes grew glassy. He could hear Tri- 
 bert on the other side of the wall stamping and 
 cursing, and at last he lay down on a lounge weak 
 with mirth. 
 
 " The ugly baboon ! " he chuckled, " how nasty 
 white he got, and how the scar showed ! Oh my ! 
 Oh my ! the bull-necked bully ! Oh dear ! Oh my ! " 
 Weser had to hold his sides again. 
 
 The same afternoon Tribert, pocketing his reluct 
 ance to meet Raoul Rigault, set out for Police Head 
 quarters. He found Rigault washing his hands in a 
 basin of scented water. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Colonel Tribert?" he 
 asked, with a smile so cold that Tribert faltered. 
 Drying his plump white fingers on a damask napkin, 
 he called an orderly to brush him. 
 
 " If you are going out I won t detain you," said 
 Tribert, sorry he had come, and edging toward the 
 door. 
 
 " I am going to dinner, but if you wish to de 
 nounce anybody I always have time for that, you 
 understand." 
 
 " No yes that is, I wished to ask whether you 
 have been able to find any trace of the American, 
 Landes." 
 
 " Have you come to criticise my department ? " 
 asked Rigault, with a dangerous flicker in his near 
 sighted eyes. 
 
 " No ! Oh no, no, no ! " cried Tribert in a hurry. 
 " I only wished "
 
 WITHIN THE WALLS. 383 
 
 " What ? " snarled Rigault, shooting a deadly 
 glance at him. 
 
 " I I merely wanted to say that I would be be 
 glad to add five thousand francs to the reward." 
 
 " You are very generous, Colonel Tribert," said 
 Rigault, deliberately. " And most disinterested I 
 am, sure ! five thousand francs out of your own 
 pocket ! and you only a poor Colonel, with noth 
 ing but a Colonel s pay just three hundred and 
 sixty-five francs a month. Really, if I did not 
 know you to be incorruptible, I might almost won 
 der how you could get your five thousand francs." 
 
 Tribert s forehead was cold with sweat, and terror 
 was stamped on every feature. He stammered 
 something and moved again toward the door. 
 
 " Good-night, Colonel Tribert," said Rigault, look 
 ing after him with his pale eyes.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 
 
 THE white hamlet of La Resida lay in the sun 
 shine under a sapphire sky. On every side 
 stretched meadows already beginning to vi 
 brate with insect life, for the bright sunlight of May 
 had gilded the silver clover and opened little buds 
 on thorn and hedge. Deep in the fragrant hearts 
 of the field lilies, bees hummed and buzzed, and 
 white butterflies flitted across acres of daisies, now 
 settling upon some blossoming stalk, now hovering 
 capriciously, now drifting on the soft wind. 
 
 When sudden shifty breezes swayed the clover, 
 each butterfly clung fast to its blossom, but when 
 the wind died out and the ruffled surface of the 
 shallow meadow pools grew glassy, the butterflies 
 rose together and sailed over the clover in powdery 
 clouds. 
 
 A yellow cat, who was spending all her energy in 
 pursuit of a low fluttering butterfly, became excited 
 at the sight of such swarms of winged creatures, 
 and leaped frantically into the air ; but her paws 
 only patted space, and she settled down again among 
 the clover, smelling and pretending she had n t 
 jumped. Then from the white highway came the 
 creak of wheels and the sharp snapping of whips. 
 
 384
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 385 
 
 The cat knew what that meant. It meant a bowl of 
 fresh cream and perhaps a strip of tender meat ; 
 and she bounded away through the meadow toward 
 the largest of the three houses, before which a train 
 of market wains had now drawn up. 
 
 The dusty blue-bloused teamsters climbed to the 
 ground, and the half dozen troopers, who served as 
 escort, dismounted with a great clattering of sabres 
 and carbines, and led their horses under the long 
 red-tiled shelter behind the house. 
 
 " Tiens, here is the cat again," cried a burly dra 
 goon ; " she knows on which side her bread is but 
 tered." He called to her gaily and she came, tail 
 erect, uttering pleased mews of expectation. 
 
 " Come here here, Tcherka," called a young 
 trooper, trailing his scabbard in the grass to lure 
 the cat to him, but Tcherka knew her business, and 
 proceeded to rub and mew and flatter the burly red- 
 faced cavalryman until he laughed and called to a 
 teamster : " Eh ! la-bas ! bring me a jug of cream 
 and a cup ! " 
 
 At that moment the door of the stucco cottage 
 opened and a man in the black, blue, and silver uni 
 form of a Lieutenant of the Commune, Subsistence 
 Department, stepped out on the lawn. All the troop 
 ers saluted, and the teamsters raised their long whips 
 and stood at attention. The officer touched the 
 polished visor of his cap, nodded smiling, and looked 
 at Tcherka, who crouched in ecstasy before a cup of 
 pure cream. 
 
 " I see, citizens, that I am becoming superfluous 
 as inspector here. My cat samples and tests for me ;
 
 386 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 I have nothing to do but to countersign your in 
 voice," he said. 
 
 Every morning it was understood that some mild 
 pleasantry should be dispensed concerning Tcherka s 
 prompt arrival on the appearance of the provision 
 convoy, and every morning the troopers laughed 
 and saluted, and the teamsters grinned and snapped 
 their long whips. 
 
 " She is a fine cat, no finer cat exists in France, 
 Citizen Lieutenant, "said the burly red-faced dragoon. 
 This was his invariable reply to Philip s pleasantries; 
 it came next in order, after morning greetings had 
 been exchanged. 
 
 Philip nodded, and taking the long strip of stamped 
 paper which the head teamster fished out of the 
 crown of his peaked cap, walked slowly along the 
 lines of wagons, poking a cabbage now and then, 
 picking up and critically weighing eggs in the palm 
 of his hand, sipping samples of milk, or nibbling at 
 a leaf of escarole or romaine. The head teamster 
 had taught him how to do this. It looked knowing 
 and very official, and he supposed it was all right, 
 because General La Cecelia, who was in command at 
 the Point-du-Jour, was never heard from, and the 
 garrison found no fault with the quality of the food. 
 So Philip played at Provision Inspector, frowned a 
 little when he thought he had been smiling too 
 much, looked with sudden suspicion at an innocent 
 carrot, hemmed, coughed, and stamped the invoice. 
 Then affixing the seals and signing with a flourish, 
 he returned the certificate and invoice to the head 
 teamster, who ducked and smiled in anticipation.
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 387 
 
 41 Citizens, you are tired the road is dusty a lit 
 tle wine ? " 
 
 This was Philip s invariable formula, and the inva 
 riable chorus came heartily: "A thousand thanks, 
 Citizen Lieutenant! " So Philip called to his long- 
 legged servant, and Jacques, his name was Jacques 
 Jean Marie Louis Joseph Bottier, brought out a 
 tray and a half dozen bottles of ordinary wine. 
 Philip solemnly filled his glass and raised it. 
 
 " To the Republic, citizens ! " 
 
 " To the Republic ! " they cried, draining their 
 glasses. 
 
 Then the troopers led their horses from the shelter, 
 the teamsters climbed into their heavy wagons, the 
 provision train slowly moved away toward the sum 
 mit of the low hill from which one could see Paris 
 and the Seine ; and the little hamlet of La Resida 
 lay again silent and deserted in the bright May sun 
 shine. 
 
 Philip stood in the doorway until the last wagon 
 had disappeared behind the hill and the last trooper 
 had trotted out of sight. The stillness of the morn 
 ing was perfect. In the road below, a very young 
 rabbit hopped out of a hedge, wrinkled its nose, 
 stared at Tcherka with large moist eyes, and scut 
 tled noiselessly back into the hedge again. 
 
 The chances were a hundred to one that no hu 
 man being would pass along the disused road until 
 the wagon train returned at midnight. The chances 
 were a thousand to one that Jacques Jean Marie 
 Louis Joseph Bottier would stumble and break at 
 least one glass when he shambled out to remove the
 
 388 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 tray. Philip mentally took the bet, although the 
 odds were terrible, but he knew his man, called to 
 him, and won the bet hands down. Jacques Jean 
 Marie Louis Joseph Bottier had broken three glasses. 
 
 " I I am very sorry, mon Lieutenant," mumbled 
 Jacques. 
 
 " Never mind, the Government pays, mon enfant ; 
 get a broom and sweep up the bits, and be careful 
 where you throw them. Is Lieutenant Fabrice up 
 yet ? " 
 
 " Not yet, Lieutenant." 
 
 " Indeed, I am," said a gay voice from the window 
 above ; " Jacques, my son, I wish my coffee at once. 
 Good-morning, citizen Lieutenant Dupre ! " 
 
 "Good-morning, Lieutenant," replied Philip, 
 gravely saluting. " Am I to have the honor of 
 joining you at breakfast ? " 
 
 " Charmed and flattered," came the answer; " wait 
 a moment, Philip ; I 11 come down under the trees 
 with you," and the figure at the window above dis 
 appeared. 
 
 " Bring the coffee out here, Jacques," said Philip, 
 and sat down under the chestnut trees at the hedge 
 gate. In another moment a supple, slim young fig 
 ure, clothed exactly like Landes, appeared on the 
 threshold. 
 
 " I have a mind to put on my own clothes to-day, 
 Philip ; what do you think ? It s over a month now 
 that we ve been here, and we have never seen any 
 thing more dangerous than the wild rabbits and 
 Jacques." 
 
 " Wait, Jeanne," he said soberly.
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 389 
 
 "But I don t see there! don t frown, Philip 
 I m not going to be unreasonable, but I would 
 like to dress like a a woman again just for a few 
 hours 
 
 " And suppose General La Cecelia should gallop 
 out here to inspect ! " 
 
 " He won t ! " 
 
 " Or suppose troops should pass!" 
 
 " They never do ! " 
 
 " Or the wagon train come back ! " 
 
 " Not before midnight." 
 
 " Don t ask me, Jeanne." 
 
 " But I do ask you, Philip." 
 
 " Then don t." 
 
 " Very well," she sighed, " but really the rabbits 
 won t know the difference, and Jacques Jean Marie 
 knows it already, and we can trust him." 
 
 " It is too dangerous," Landes said ; " suppose 
 some wandering trooper or prying peasant should 
 see you ? I tell you, Jeanne, the teamsters and the 
 escort of the wagon train are good fellows and swal 
 low all I give them about your special clerical work, 
 but if they begin to wonder why it is they never see 
 you except at your desk by the window in the morn 
 ings, and take to snooping about here, they will find 
 out the truth in no time, and you and I will decorate 
 the branches here above our heads. Don t ask me, 
 Jeanne." 
 
 " Then I won t, you dear fellow," said Jeanne, and 
 looked at him with clear, sweet eyes. " Do I worry 
 you nearly to death ? You will begin to turn grey, 
 I suppose why ! I do believe you have two grey
 
 390 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 hairs on your temples. What a shame ! Is it on 
 my account? " 
 
 " No," said Philip, laughing, but his laugh was 
 not as genuine as it might have been, and it ended 
 with a scarcely perceptible sigh. It was on Jeanne s 
 account. Within the last six weeks his eyes had 
 grown hollow and those firm lines had come about 
 his mouth in thinking of her. Not of her danger 
 alone. No, there was something besides that. His 
 love was beginning to wear on him, and in spite of 
 himself he was growing morbid. He knew she loved 
 him tenderly, but not with the full love he wanted. 
 He began to fear she never would love him as he 
 did her. He knew that under the circumstances 
 he ought to thank God for her simple childlike 
 affection, and yet sometimes the temptation almost 
 mastered him to try and change her feeling to a 
 deeper one. The struggle began to wear on him. 
 
 Jacques brought coffee and rolls, and they sat down 
 to breakfast under the flowering chestnut trees by 
 the hedge. 
 
 " What are we going to do to-day, Monsieur," she 
 said gaily. 
 
 " We are going to teach you to say Citizen in 
 stead of Monsieur, I think you imprudent girl!" 
 
 " Et apres ? " she persisted, with a wilful smile. 
 
 " Whatever you wish shall we walk across the 
 meadow to the brook in the woods?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly, so that you may spend the day 
 poking about to see if there are any trout in the 
 pools ! " she laughed. " You know you might as 
 well look for mermaids in the Seine ! "
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 39! 
 
 " If I only had my colors here ! " he said wistfully. 
 
 " Poor boy ! You shall look for trout all day, if 
 that will help you to forget your easel ! " 
 
 " Well then, suppose we fix up a couple of rods 
 and try the stream anyway." 
 
 " For the trout that are not there ? " 
 
 " They may be there, those pools are deep and 
 no May-flies have hatched out this season. I be 
 lieve I will try it. Jacques has hooks and lines ; he 
 fishes for gudgeon in the Seine. Here, Jacques ! " 
 
 After Philip had selected two from a bundle of 
 cane fishing-rods which the servant brought him, he 
 asked Jacques, " What do you do for bait ? " 
 
 " Worms ! " said Jacques, briefly. 
 
 Jeanne turned away in disgust. Philip removed 
 the gaudy quill floats from the lines and called ; 
 " Jeanne, where s your work-basket ? " 
 
 " In my room." 
 
 "Go and get it, Jacques, and bring me some shoe 
 maker s wax and all of your spare hooks. We are 
 going to have pigeons for dinner, are n t we?" 
 
 " Yes, Lieutenant." 
 
 " Are they plucked ? " 
 
 " Yes, Lieutenant." 
 
 "And there is a duck and a pullet in the cellar. 
 Did you pluck them too at the same time ? " 
 
 "Yes, Lieutenant." 
 
 " Can you bring me the feathers?" 
 
 " Yes, Lieutenant." 
 
 " Good. Now, Jeanne, come here and learn how 
 to tie a fly," he said presently, and she immediately 
 sat down on the ground beside him. Piles of mottled
 
 392 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 feathers lay all around them, spools of red and yel 
 low silk were in their laps. 
 
 " Watch me, Jeanne, see, it is very easy." 
 
 He took a fine hook in his hand, laid the hackle 
 from the pullet s neck against the shank, and bound 
 it firmly with a twist or two of the waxed silk. 
 Then he clipped the tip from a white pigeon feather 
 and bound it to the end of the shank for the wings. 
 When he had finished winding the body and had 
 inserted a bit of scarlet worsted just above the 
 barb, he laid a strand of silver tinsel from the galons 
 of his sleeve over the body of the insect, bent back 
 the wings, gave a dozen quick turns to the thread, 
 and snipped the thread with his knife. 
 
 "That s a very fair Royal Coachman, " he said, 
 holding it out for inspection. 
 
 " How pretty ! " she cried ; " I shall make one im 
 mediately." 
 
 They worked quickly, but her slender fingers flew 
 faster than his ; and before he had finished explain 
 ing the mysteries of " Professors," " Green Drakes," 
 " Yellow Mays," " Hackles," " Spinners," and 
 " Gnats," she had a little heap of a dozen tempting- 
 looking flies in her lap, while he could only count 
 eight. 
 
 " They are beautifully dressed," he said, highly 
 delighted ; "you tie a fly much better than I do." 
 
 " Of course I do," she laughed, springing up, 
 " and now I intend to go and catch a little fish." 
 
 " This is a highly accomplished young lady," said 
 Philip, rising and brushing the bits of tinsel, silk, 
 and feather from his braided jacket; "look at your
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS, 393 
 
 spurs, Jeanne; who ever heard of a trout fisherman 
 in spurred boots ? Give your sabre to Jacques ! " 
 
 " Who ever heard of a fisherman in staff uniform ? " 
 she retorted. 
 
 They unbuckled their sabres and handed them to 
 Jacques, whose approval of the proceedings was ex 
 pressed in a grin. 
 
 " Take care of Tcherka, Jacques," said Jeanne, 
 with a pretty gesture toward the cat, who sprawled 
 dozing in the sun by the hedge ; " when shall we 
 return, Philip ? " 
 
 " By six anyway. Dinner at seven, Jacques ; 
 pigeons and salad, you know, and don t you dare 
 burn the soup ! " 
 
 Jacques ducked and grinned. 
 
 " If anybody should come," began Philip 
 
 " Nobody will come; are you ready?" she cried 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Yes," he said, picking up both rods; but Jeanne 
 insisted on carrying her own, and imitated Philip s 
 method of disposing of his flies by sticking them all 
 over her silver-banded cap. The cap set very natu 
 rally on her head now, for, eluding Philip s vigilance, 
 she had cut off her lovely hair, and now it curled 
 and waved all over her small head. 
 
 Philip swung to his shoulder a campaign sack in 
 which were chicken sandwiches and a bottle of wine, 
 and followed her through the hedge gate. 
 
 " If anything happens and we don t return for 
 dinner," he called to Jacques over the gate, "you 
 must not be alarmed ; keep a cautious tongue in your 
 head, and stay right here until we do come back."
 
 394 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 "And take good care of Tcherka! " added Jeanne, 
 gaily. At the sound of her name, Tcherka raised 
 her pink nose and blinked in the sunlight, but 
 Jeanne and Philip had turned into the meadow and 
 were already wading ankle - deep in the scented 
 clover. She moved through the clover lightly, her 
 fair face faintly tinged with color, little glints of soft 
 hair blowing over her cheeks. The collar of he^ 
 jacket dented the skin on her white throat and she 
 left it open. 
 
 " Did you bring any brioche ? " she asked. 
 
 " For you of course." 
 
 " You never forget anything." 
 
 " I cannot anything that concerns you." 
 
 " I m sure there is one thing you forgot." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Salt ! " 
 
 " But you do not use it." 
 
 "But you do! " 
 
 He laughed and colored. 
 
 She was silent, and they moved on lightly through 
 the fragrant meadow. 
 
 " Butterflies, butterflies, and more butterflies ! " 
 she exclaimed at last. " I think the clover has 
 taken wings ! Do you suppose they are happy? I 
 am sure they are. See them whirl and hover and 
 then go fluttering up, up, up, until they fade into 
 the blue. Do they ever come down again ? There 
 go two more up, up to the sky. Do they always go 
 together two together when they sail away into 
 the blue sky ? " 
 
 " Perhaps they are seeking the haven of love," he 
 said sadly.
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 395 
 
 She noticed his tone, and continued in a low 
 voice : " Psyche holds a butterfly. Is love immor 
 tal, Fhilip?" 
 
 " Some love is." 
 
 " How do you know? " 
 
 " How do I know? " he repeated sharply. 
 
 " Yes how do you know ? " 
 
 " Because I love." 
 
 They went on some time in silence. She was a 
 little in advance. When they came to the meadow 
 brook she waited for him at the edge. He helped 
 her over, and, when he would have dropped her 
 hand, her slender fingers held his. Her eyes were 
 turned toward the near woods. 
 
 " Listen ! " she said" the birds." 
 
 How deep and warm the fragrance of the sunlit 
 meadows ! How sweet and cool the glades through 
 which their path now lay ! Her soft white hand, 
 which thrilled him so, lay in his own, quite passive, 
 as side by side they moved along the narrow wood 
 land path. And from the dim arches of the forest 
 aisles the song of the birds swelled unceasingly. 
 High on the tip of a tall pine a blackbird was sing 
 ing to his mate. 
 
 " A blackbird ! Our prophet ! " whispered Jeanne. 
 
 " What does he prophesy, Jeanne ! " 
 
 " Happiness I think." 
 
 "For us?" 
 
 She bent her head, the color mantled neck and 
 forehead. 
 
 " For us ? " he repeated. 
 
 " He is our prophet," she murmured; "don t ask 
 me yet, Philip give me time."
 
 39 6 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Tell me," he pleaded. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "That you are learning to love." 
 
 " To love," she repeated, trembling. " Oh, I don t 
 know wait wait, I must have time. I scarcely 
 know what I am saying. It came so suddenly in 
 the meadow 
 
 " You are frightened," he said, in a low, happy 
 voice ; " I will wait, Jeanne, don t tremble so, I 
 am only Philip, your comrade 
 
 "You are more," she cried " Philip, I love you ! " 
 and she flung her arms around his neck. 
 
 "The birds are still singing," he murmured, as she 
 lay trembling in his arms. She nestled her head 
 closer to his, her eyes, half-veiled, drooped with a 
 new shyness. 
 
 "Jeanne, Jeanne," he murmured, " I love you." 
 
 And at last she answered him, speaking his own 
 language: "Ah! How I love you, my Philip!" 
 She raised her face to his in the innocence of her 
 passion. How her heart was beating ! He held her 
 closer. The forest around was very still. Their lips 
 met. The blackbird uttered a long liquid note. 
 
 If there had been trout in the stream, and if Philip 
 and Jeanne had fished for them, the trout might 
 have taken the artificial flies. But those prattling 
 rapids, and deep amber pools swirling under green 
 leaves, were never disturbed by fishermen that day. 
 A heavy fish floundered up after a struggling cricket, 
 but the leap and splash did not draw a glance from 
 Philip. A sleek otter slipped silently into the pool 
 from the bank above. A baby fox crept from the
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 397 
 
 thicket into a sunny circle among some ferns, cock 
 ing his enormous ears and peering cunningly across. 
 He played boldly in the sunshine until Philip took a 
 step forward, then he came down on all fours bark 
 ing impudent defiance. 
 
 "What is that?" asked Jeanne, raising her face 
 from Philip s shoulder. 
 
 " Nothing, my darling, only a fox cub." 
 
 Presently the fox, tired of barking, curled up, 
 tucked his brush under his flank, yawned, and 
 blinked at them with glittering, malicious eyes. 
 
 Through the tree tops the sunshine glimmered 
 like powdered gold. Far in the forest depths some 
 lost sunbeam sparkled and paled as the branches 
 swayed in the breeze. A grey hawk darted through 
 the labyrinth of trees, and his long wings flashed as 
 he wheeled and hung breathless above the baby fox. 
 The cub leered up at the bird and snarled, the hawk 
 sailed away over the tree tops uttering a desolate 
 cry. Then, as Philip raised his head to look after 
 him, a sudden shadow, vast and grey, enveloped 
 them. They started up, a balloon was gliding 
 through the air just above the tree tops. At the 
 same instant a voice came from the wicker car, clear 
 and distinct: "Let go that sand bag, we Ve got to 
 rise ; this wood is deserted ; ready heave ! " 
 
 A torrent of sand came rushing earthward through 
 the leaves. The fox cub fled. Jeanne caught Philip s 
 arm. 
 
 " Signal General de Gallifet to attack, Lieutenant," 
 came the voice from the sky, more faintly now. 
 
 " Bien, mon Colonel."
 
 39^ THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Ready with another sack, heave ! " Again the 
 descending rush of sand tore through the branches. 
 
 " Signal Clamart when we get higher." 
 
 " Bien, mon Colonel." 
 
 The words grew fainter and fainter until the voices 
 died away in the sky and the balloon rose higher, 
 higher, while the sun glinted on the pale yellow silk, 
 and struck showers of sparks from the flashing 
 heliograph. 
 
 "We had better go," said Philip, quietly , "that is 
 a Versailles balloon, and they are signalling to 
 attack." 
 
 " I suppose if you had hailed it they would have 
 fired at us without inquiry," said Jeanne, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes our uniforms and they shoot first under 
 such circumstances." 
 
 She sighed and drew his arm about her waist, but 
 before she could speak, the distant bang ! bang ! 
 bang ! of cavalry carbines sent Philip leaping to the 
 edge of the woods. 
 
 " Oh, look," cried Jeanne, " they are shooting up 
 at the balloon ! " 
 
 It was true. A dozen cavalrymen were capering 
 about on the road below in great excitement. Now 
 and then they drew bridle and fired from their sad 
 dles at the balloon above, then dug spurs into their 
 horses and galloped madly after it. The balloon 
 moved slowly toward the west, the car was too 
 indistinct now to distinguish flags or figures, but 
 high in the clouds the heliograph sparkled and 
 flashed its messages across the country to Clamart 
 and Meudon and the heights of Versailles.
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 399 
 
 "What is that -oh ! see there, Philip ! " she cried 
 again. 
 
 "Where? What?" 
 
 "There by our house don t you see? Away 
 off there near that queer red square on the hillside." 
 
 " That queer red square on the hillside is a regi 
 ment of infantry of the Line," he said quietly ; " and 
 what you see beyond them, near our house, is the 
 sunlight striking the cannon of a field battery. See 
 how they move now. They must be close to our 
 house. Look ! The cavalrymen have given up 
 chasing the balloon. I believe they have just dis 
 covered the Versailles infantry yes there they go 
 to warn their main body ! " 
 
 " Then then we can t go home, can we ? " said 
 Jeanne, faintly. 
 
 " No indeed, we re homeless again, my darling, 
 unless the Federals are in force in this vicinity, 
 which I don t believe. If we had n t come fishing 
 we would have been taken by the Versailles scouts." 
 
 " And shot ? " 
 
 " Not you I trust." 
 
 " It would be the same," she replied indifferently, 
 " I shall die when you do." 
 
 A nearer crackle of musketry sounded from a 
 patch of woods below. 
 
 " Hello," cried Philip, "the Federals are here after 
 all. That was the pickets ; now they are firing by 
 company, Hark ! See the white cloud on the hill 
 back of our house ! The battery is shelling the 
 grove. That shell fell perfectly; it must have 
 exploded among the battalions."
 
 40O THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " They are going to turn our paradise into a battle 
 field," said Jeanne, desperately ; " oh, do you think 
 they will ? " 
 
 " I fear so," he said, drawing her closer. 
 
 For now, from the battery on the distant hill, the 
 pale flames leaped incessantly, and the insurgent 
 infantry in the wood below poured out of cover in 
 disorder, scattering in every direction. Then other 
 batteries, masked among the groves and thickets of 
 the circling hillsides, burst into smoke and flame : 
 everywhere reddish - brown squares and oblongs 
 blotted plains and hillsides, and bayonet tips 
 sparkled in the sunlight. 
 
 Crash ! ripple crash ! came the volleys on every 
 side. Like rats scuttling from a settling hulk the 
 Federals tumbled out of the undergrowth and made 
 tracks for the denser cover of the forest. 
 
 " They are coming here," said Philip, " we can t 
 stay any longer." 
 
 " But where can we go?" asked Jeanne. 
 
 " To Paris we have no choice. The whole Ver 
 sailles army is on the move. Oh, if we could only 
 get rid of these uniforms ! " 
 
 " Look! Look ! Philip ! " cried Jeanne, catching 
 him by the arm and pointing at a little footbridge 
 not a quarter of a mile below them. 
 
 " I see," he muttered, " the Federals will be cut to 
 pieces ; it is a flank movement." 
 
 For a moment they watched a dense column of 
 red-legged infantry crowding at double quick across 
 the little bridge, then Philip turned away with an 
 irresolute gesture.
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 40! 
 
 " It would mean safety for you if you were not 
 wearing this cursed uniform. What a fool I was not 
 to listen to you when you wanted to wear your own 
 clothes ! " 
 
 " It would have made no difference," she said, 
 "you would not have been able to go with me." 
 
 "Your safety is the first thing," he said, almost 
 roughly. " Look down there ; see how near they 
 are ! What a fool I was ! " 
 
 She slipped her hand into his and smiled. 
 
 " Are you not going to take me to Paris ? " 
 
 " It s time," he cried, " ah, if you were only 
 safe " 
 
 A half-suppressed scream from Jeanne checked 
 him. Through the trees, over the soft thick moss, a 
 file of horsemen were advancing in perfect silence. 
 Towering above his skeleton horse, wrapped in the 
 awful emblems of death, the leader of the cavalcade 
 moved noiselessly toward the edge of the forest, and 
 after him swarmed his hideous legion, gaunt, pallid, 
 shrouded in crepe. Grimly, above his horse s rusty 
 mane, the leader stooped and pointed. His sunken 
 eyes glittered. Then came the sharp hiss of sabres 
 leaping from steel scabbards, the hoarse croak of 
 command, and the Hussars of Death wheeled and 
 fell upon the enemy. 
 
 " Oh, Philip ! " moaned Jeanne, covering her eyes, 
 for the spectacle at the footbridge was terrible. 
 Fascinated by the horror of the swift butchery on 
 the bridge, Philip had stepped out to the edge of the 
 woods, but Jeanne s cry roused him and he cast a 
 
 quick glance around. Already the red-capped sharp- 
 
 26
 
 4<D2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 shooters were creeping in their direction, while from 
 the meadow below the frightened insurgents clam 
 bered up the hill and fled through the woods toward 
 Paris. 
 
 " Come," he said, and seized her hand, and they 
 started, running after the rest. 
 
 It was a long dash through the woods, but she 
 kept up bravely, her hand clasped tightly in his. 
 When her breath came in little gasps and her limbs 
 faltered, he would slacken the pace and walk until 
 she signalled silently that she was ready again. 
 Once a prowling Versailles sharpshooter took a snap 
 shot at a Federalist who was running just ahead of 
 them, and the fellow dropped, cursing, with a bullet 
 in his ankle, but the sharpshooter was instantly en 
 veloped by a swarm of fugitives who fell on him, 
 snarling like wildcats, and literally tore him to pieces 
 among the underbrush. 
 
 Twice Jeanne stopped to quench her thirst at some 
 of the rills that crossed their path, and little by 
 little the flying Federals passed them, until they were 
 left entirely alone on the farther edge of the forest. 
 And here Jeanne sank down, panting and tearful, 
 and Philip knelt beside her, taking her hands in his. 
 
 " I I can t go on ! " she gasped. 
 
 " You must don t hurry but you must." 
 
 " I cannot," she sighed, " my heart seems to 
 suffocate me ! " 
 
 He walked swiftly to the edge of the fringe of 
 trees and then hurried back again. " Courage, my 
 darling. We are close to the ramparts of Paris. 
 Only one more effort and we are safe," he whispered.
 
 A VOICE FROM THE CLOUDS. 403 
 
 She looked up at him and held out both her arms. 
 " Lift me," she said, " I will try." 
 
 He stooped and raised her and she clung about 
 his neck, smiling through her tears. And as he 
 stood for a moment, holding her in his arms, a man 
 came creeping through the thicket before him. He 
 sprang back, and Jeanne slipped to her feet, but 
 other men jumped on him from the bushes and 
 struck him savagely, and in a moment he was roll 
 ing, stunned and bleeding, among the dead leaves. 
 Jeanne, pale and silent, struggled between two 
 marines of the Commune, but one of the men drew 
 his sword and pressing the point against her braided 
 jacket, sternly bade her be quiet. Then Philip 
 opened his eyes, gasped, stared, and staggered to 
 his feet. 
 
 " Ah ! " sneered Weser, " a spy in the uniform of 
 the Commune ! Very funny oh, very funny but 
 what s coming is funnier yet ! " Then tuining to a 
 corporal beside him : " take that man to La Roquette 
 and take that pink and white putty-faced young 
 fool there along with him. He looks like a sniv 
 elling woman. I 11 give him something to snivel 
 for. Where s my horse ? Tell my aide-de-camp to 
 notify Rigault that the fellow Landes is caught, and 
 is safe in La Roquette, and tell him to send the 
 reward to me at the Hotel de Ville. By the way, 
 you need n t say anything to Colonel Tribert, I 11 
 speak to him myself. If the prisoners are unruly 
 smash their skulls in. March ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 WESER BIDS TRIBERT GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 WHEN the last of the Paris Turcos, Pagot s 
 company, were exterminated at the fort of 
 Issy, Tribert notified Colonel Rossel that 
 the barricade on the rue Notre Dame was empty and 
 undefended. Colonel Rossel, a soldier to his finger 
 tips, and a brave man, was busily occupied in trying 
 to retake the Issy trenches when Tribert s despatch 
 arrived, but he found time to send a message to 
 Dombrowski, urging the immediate direction of a 
 battalion to the rue Notre Dame, and explaining 
 how important that barricade was, covering as it 
 did the approach to the Gare Montparnasse and the 
 Luxembourg. So Dombrowski twisted his grey 
 moustache, scowled, glared at Bergeret s reserves, 
 who were filling ten thousand sacks with earth (all 
 they were good for), and finally galloped to the 
 Hotel de Ville, where Tribert received him in fear 
 and trembling. 
 
 " I want a battalion," said Dombrowski ; " a good 
 one none of the Bergeret kind." 
 
 Weser, who was sealing orders for Tribert, chuc 
 kled to himself. " Tribert s got to go, the lazy rat," 
 he thought ; " how he will hate to leave this sunny, 
 comfortable bureau ! " 
 
 404
 
 WESER BIDS TRIBERT GOOD-NIGHT. 405 
 
 " There is the Marine battalion," began Tribert, 
 smoothly, but was rudely interrupted. 
 
 " D n the Marine battalion ! " said General Dom- 
 browski ; " they are a lot of drunken footpads. 
 What I want is a tried battalion, franc or guard, I 
 don t care which ! Have you any such ? " 
 
 "No," said Tribert, sullenly. 
 
 " Then you ve got to take command of your 
 Avengers I can t help it if they are not formed 
 yet they are the flower of the veterans, and the 
 only franc corps worth their salt, now that the 
 Turcos are gone. I wish Colonel Sarre was alive ! " 
 
 " Thank God, he s dead, the feather-headed 
 fool ! " thought Weser. 
 
 " Alas," said Tribert, with a wily glance at Weser ; 
 " it is true that Colonel Sarre is dead, but there still 
 remains one of the bravest of his captains, a cool, 
 prudent fellow, but a fiend incarnate in battle. His 
 courage has been put to proof at Meudon and Issy, 
 and yet to-day this loyal son of the Republic is but 
 a simple captain, asking nothing, claiming nothing, 
 only seeking to do his duty. You ask me, General 
 Dombrowski, who this modest hero is ? And I 
 reply, he is my dear comrade, my friend and more 
 than brother, the last of the Turcos, Isidore 
 Weser ! " 
 
 Weser, whose expression had changed slowly for 
 the worse while Tribert was snivelling his eulogy, 
 fairly bounded from his chair when his name was 
 pronounced, but Tribert gave him no time to pro 
 test. 
 
 " General," he pleaded, " I ask that this gallant man
 
 406 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 be rewarded. He has merited well of the Republic. 
 Give him this coveted honor, the command of the 
 Avengers. Proud as I would be, happy as you 
 make me when you ask me to command the bat 
 talion which I have formed, I would be still prouder 
 and happier if I could see my dear brother and com 
 rade leading the Avengers into battle ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " gasped Weser, in a cold perspiration. " I 
 I don t wish to I don t deserve this this honor ! " 
 
 "You do! Isidore, you do !" cried Tribert, en 
 thusiastically. 
 
 " I don t ! " snarled Weser, and darted a terrible 
 glance at Tribert. Tribert continued to eulogize 
 him, smiling blandly at the white malignancy of his 
 face, and finally the brave old General interposed. 
 
 " You are too modest, Citizen Weser," he said, for, 
 being brave himself it never occurred to him to sus 
 pect cowardice in others ; " you are too modest even 
 for a brave man. You have waited patiently for 
 recognition. You shall have it. I give you com 
 mand of the Avengers. Be worthy of them as 
 they will be worthy of you. It is ten o clock. By 
 twelve you will have your commission. Join your 
 battalion at once and occupy the barricade in the 
 rue Notre Dame." Then, returning Tribert s prompt 
 salute, Dombrowski walked away to find Delescluze 
 and Ferre, and if possible to drag those bloodhounds 
 away from Rossel s trail. 
 
 For a moment Weser and Tribert eyed each other 
 in silence. Weser s face was green with suppressed 
 fury, but Tribert, after a minute, shrugged his shoul 
 ders and turned to his desk.
 
 WESER BIDS TRIBERT GOOD-NIGHT. 407 
 
 " You have played me a dirty trick! " said Weser, 
 in a passionless voice, but his eyes were deadly. 
 
 " Silence ! " roared Tribert ; " do you know whom 
 you address ? " 
 
 " I know," said Weser. 
 
 " I am your superior officer remember that ! " 
 sneered Tribert. Then he began to laugh. " You re 
 trapped this time, Izzy, sure as guns are guns ! " 
 
 " I am very glad to go," said Weser. 
 
 Tribert burst into shrieks of laughter. 
 
 " Of course you are ! Why, I can see martial 
 ardor burning in your eyes ! How you must long to 
 bare your breast to the Versaillist bayonets ! Bayo 
 nets hurt. How you must yearn for the bursting 
 shells ! Bullets hurt, too, Izzy, but what is a leg, 
 an arm, an eye, a face torn to pieces what is a 
 human life when one can give it for the glory and 
 oh, dear me! ha! ha! the glory and honor yes, 
 honor, Izzy, of the Commune? " 
 
 " May the God of Israel curse you ! " said Weser, 
 slowly. His eyes were burning in his distorted face, 
 and he stretched out his arms in an agony of fear 
 and hate. Then he went out of the room, and far 
 down the street Tribert heard his sabre clanging 
 on the stony pavement. 
 
 So Tribert was left alone to laugh his fill and 
 curse a little too, for there was something in Weser s 
 voice and face that troubled him more than he cared 
 to acknowledge. He was glad his bureau was public 
 property. Officers of every grade, in gorgeous uni 
 forms, passed and repassed, and all were discussing 
 the same thing, the latest issue of the Official
 
 408 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Journal of the Commune, or the " Official," as it was 
 called. In it were the full reports of the trial and 
 sentence of Cluseret before the Commune. The 
 Commune had been in session that morning, and 
 measures of urgency were voted at Rossel s request. 
 Day after day Rigault, Delescluze, Billioray, and 
 Ferr had urged their bloody measures, and most of 
 them had been passed. The death penalty, swift, mer 
 ciless sentences for civil and military offences, the 
 law of denunciations and midnight visits to suspected 
 houses, the compulsory service with the National 
 Guard, all these measures had been passed, and 
 were now laws in full operation. And still Rigault 
 demanded more power, more plunder, more blood ; 
 and the Commune trembled before him. 
 
 Perhaps Tribert was thinking of Rigault, perhaps 
 of some other unpleasant subject, for he started 
 violently when a small, near-sighted man sat down 
 beside him without ceremony, and, drawing a pair 
 of glasses from his silver slashed jacket, adjusted 
 them and smiled. It was Rigault. 
 
 "Sit down, sit down, Colonel Tribert," he said, 
 noticing the other s involuntary start ; " I want to 
 chat with you a bit. I ve just come from the stance 
 of the Commune. They are beginning to suspect 
 Dombrowski now. Hey ! The dance goes on, and 
 my prisons are getting too full. I must shoot a few 
 people to make room. I ve just convinced the 
 Commune that there are twenty or thirty gendarmes 
 who are of no use to the world. They re sentenced, 
 and by this time are filing out to be shot. I m sorry 
 to miss it too, for there are a dozen cowardly Na-
 
 WESER BIDS TRIBERT GOOD-NIGHT. 409 
 
 tional Guards among the batch who hate to die. 
 Where is your friend Weser?" 
 
 " He is detailed to command the Avengers, " re 
 plied Tribert, with a sickly smile. 
 
 "Ah um I see. So you escaped and he was 
 caught, eh? He s a coward but you are not at 
 least, not that kind of coward. You merely love 
 comfort and good food. Who detailed him?" 
 
 " Dombrowski." 
 
 " Dombrowski is suspected," said Rigault, coldly ; 
 then, " if I could shoot ninety-nine per cent, of the 
 Commune it would leave traitors enough and to 
 spare. They say I know they say that I am crazy, 
 that I am blood-drunk, but I know who the traitors 
 are ! Do you suppose that a single whispered word 
 escapes my spies? Do you suppose a single traitor 
 ous heart-beat is not noted in my Book of the 
 Condemned ? I bide my time." 
 
 Tribert stared at him, mouth ajar. 
 
 " I came to speak about the American, Philip 
 Landes," said Rigault, " do you know where he 
 is?" 
 
 " No," gasped Tribert. 
 
 " I do," said Rigault. 
 
 " You you have caught him ! " 
 
 " Yes. Your friend Weser caught him. He wants 
 the reward now." 
 
 " Where is where is this American? " 
 
 " In La Roquctte. I am very much pleased. I 
 shall not shoot him." 
 
 " Not shoot him ! " blurted out Tribert. 
 
 " No I shall have him strangled slowly." They
 
 410 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 sat silent for a while, then Rigault spoke again : 
 "Your face will always bear his marks." 
 
 Tribert ground his teeth. 
 
 " I have also my little account to settle with Mon 
 sieur Landes," continued Rigault, with a meditative 
 glance at Tribert s disfigured face. 
 
 " When are you going to do it ? " demanded Tri 
 bert, after a moment. 
 
 "Do what?" 
 
 " Strangle him." 
 
 " Oh, really I don t know. I want to take my 
 time, I wish to give my personal attention to it. 
 The young man really merits it. I am going to shoot 
 a lot of gendarmes and priests first, to clear out the 
 prisons. Then I m going to shoot the priest 
 Darboy." 
 
 " The Archbishop ?" 
 
 " That s what he calls himself. After him there 
 are a lot of others. It won t be very amusing. I am 
 saving the American as one saves a good morsel. 
 Would you like to be present at the interview? " 
 
 Tribert nodded. 
 
 " I will let you know in time. I shall torture 
 him," continued Raoul Rigault. " Have you heard 
 any news of the de Brassac hussy ? " 
 
 " No," said Tribert, " it s a wonder they were not 
 trapped together. Was he alone ? " 
 
 "No he had another young fellow with him ; 
 both were masquerading in our uniform. But Weser 
 saw no traces of the de Brassac wench." 
 
 " How did Weser stumble on Landes? " enquired 
 Tribert, curiously.
 
 WESER BIDS TRIBERT GOOD-NIGHT. 41 1 
 
 " Do you remember the day you sent him to 
 Dombrowski with Bergeret s despatch, the day 
 that the Versaillists outflanked La Cecelia and 
 knocked Moulin-Saquet and the Montrouge fort to 
 pieces? Well, this fox, Weser, also went on a little 
 errand of mine at the same time, and that errand 
 was to arrest Colonel Wilton of the 266th, who is in 
 my eyes a suspect. He got him and packed him off 
 to La Roquette, and, coming back with his marine 
 escort, he had the luck, the pure luck to stumble 
 on a fugitive a private in your old battalion, the 
 265th, named Martin. This man Martin was the 
 fellow who was on guard at the Impasse de la Mort 
 when Landes got in and carried away the de Brassac 
 girl. Well, Martin had seen and recognized Landes, 
 although the American cur wore our uniform ; so 
 Martin, remembering the reward, and also having an 
 old score to settle, followed the American and his 
 brother spy, and when he saw Weser and his ma 
 rines, he denounced Landes, and led Weser to where 
 he stood. That is the whole story. Simple, is n t 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes. Does Martin get any of the money ? " 
 
 "Half. Here is Weser s share." Rigault flung a 
 bag of gold coins onto Tribert s desk. 
 
 " Weser s gone," said Tribert. 
 
 " He 11 be back. See that he gets his money. 
 Money s cheap now. There is plenty in the Bank 
 of France." Then he rose, adjusted his sword, 
 mopped his chin with a scented embroidered hand 
 kerchief, and walked out. 
 
 Tribert leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on
 
 412 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 the bag of gold. He had sat there for an hour, 
 scarcely moving, never taking his eyes from the bag, 
 when a light step sounded behind him, and Weser 
 reappeared in the uniform of a Colonel of the Na 
 tional Guard. Tribert looked at him, expecting 
 another outbreak, but Weser smiled, and motioned 
 him to rise. 
 
 " I want to have a talk with you," he said pleasant 
 ly ; " come into the secret office. Have you got the 
 keys ? " 
 
 Tribert, a little surprised, but willing to escape 
 another wrangle with the man who was now his 
 equal in rank, fumbled in his pocket for the keys, 
 and produced them. " I ve got something to say to 
 you also," he said, picking up the bag of gold, and 
 balancing it in his hand ; " come on, Izzy." Weser 
 followed him down the broad staircase, through a 
 series of gloomy corridors, and then down another 
 staircase to a landing, closed at the end by a massive 
 door. Here he fumbled with his keys for a while, 
 but at last the heavy door swung open, and they 
 entered the secret office. 
 
 "Whew!" grumbled Tribert; "that door is 
 heavy ! " 
 
 " How thick are the walls ? " asked Weser. 
 
 " Thick enough to deaden the screams of the 
 damned. Nobody can hear us now. Sit down." 
 
 The room contained a table and a dozen chairs. 
 In the corner stood a sink. Two quaintly wrought 
 faucets dripped water into the iron basin, and the 
 constant drop ! drop ! drop ! irritated Tribert. He 
 tried to turn the faucets entirely around, but they
 
 WESER BIDS TRIBERT GOOD-NIGHT. 413 
 
 stuck fast, and the water continued dripping with 
 solemn regularity. 
 
 Weser had closed and bolted the door, and now 
 sat before the iron table, his pointed ferret-like face 
 in his hands, his black eyes roaming restlessly about 
 the room. 
 
 " I have never before been here," he said ; " what 
 is that ring in the floor for?" 
 
 "That iron ring? Oh, it lifts a slab of stone." 
 
 "What s there?" 
 
 " Down there ? The river." 
 
 " Under the floor here? " 
 
 " Yes. D n this faucet ; I can t turn it. What 
 do you want to see me about, Izzy?" He came 
 and sat down opposite Weser, and lighted a cigar. 
 "What do you want ? " he repeated. 
 
 " I want to know what you honestly think of the 
 chances of the Commune, for one thing." 
 
 "Well, Izzy, as we are alone, and no witnesses at 
 the keyhole, I can safely say that the jig is up." 
 
 "You think so? " 
 
 " I m sure. Only a compromise with Thiers can 
 save our necks." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " W T hy ? Look at the Issy fort ! Look at the 
 viaduct of the Point-du-Jour ! Look how they 
 sunk our gun-boats ! Look at the forts of Mont- 
 rouge, the battery of Moulin-Saquet, bastion num 
 ber seventy ! Do you know the Versaillists are 
 running their parallels within a few metres of the 
 enciente ? They are already in the Bois de Bou 
 logne."
 
 414 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " So are we in the Bois de Boulogne." 
 
 "Yes, and we are quitting it in a hurry too. The 
 shells are falling all about the Arc-de-Triomphe, the 
 shells are digging holes in the Boulevard des Ita- 
 liens. Our only hope is behind the barricades." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " Then ? Then if they take the barricades, we can 
 burn the city, blow up everything behind us, and 
 run for the German lines. The Prussians are neutral. 
 Is that all you wanted of me ? " 
 
 " All for the present. What do you want of 
 me?" 
 
 " Nothing a trifle. I hear you have been earning 
 a reward." Weser raised his eyebrows. " A fat 
 reward," continued Tribert, " in the service of Raoul 
 Rigault." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You never told me, Izzy." 
 
 "What of it?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing. I might have shared the reward 
 with you if you had." 
 
 " The reward is mine. Where is the money ? " 
 said Weser. 
 
 " In my pocket, Izzy. Half of the reward went 
 to Martin, half I keep." 
 
 " It s mine," said Weser, in a low voice. 
 
 " But you will give it to me," sneered Tribert, 
 " won t you, Izzy ? " 
 
 " Give me the money," said Weser again. 
 
 " I m sure you 11 give it to me, unless you care to 
 have it known that Pagot died with a knife in his 
 back," grinned Tribert.
 
 WESER BIDS TRIBERT GOOD-NIGHT. 415 
 
 For a moment Weser s face was awful to see. 
 Then a ghastly smile stretched his mouth. " Oh, if 
 you put it in that way I suppose I must not find 
 fault," he said, with the slightest quaver in his voice. 
 " You can keep the money." Tribert grinned again. 
 
 Thanks," he said, rising and walking toward the 
 door. " Are you coming, Izzy ? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " No ? Well, good-bye then." 
 
 He bowed ironically, and touched his cap in salute. 
 " Good-night, Colonel Weser." 
 
 " Good-night," said Weser, and shot him through 
 the back.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 
 
 THE crash of the revolver in the stone room set 
 Weser s ears tingling, the pungent powder 
 vapors stung his eyes and choked him. Lit 
 tle by little the smoke floated to the black ceiling, 
 where it wavered in broad bands, drifting and set 
 tling like filmy cobwebs. Through the silence of 
 the sealed chamber the water in the sink dripped, 
 dripped, dripped, until the sound seemed to grow 
 like rain increasing with the wind. His whitened 
 fingers still clutched the revolver, but now his wrist 
 began to ache, and he laid the weapon on the table 
 softly. His eyes had never left the bleeding, dusty 
 heap before the door, and presently he rose and bent 
 above it. Then he rolled it over with his foot. 
 Death was stamped on the loose face and glazing 
 eyes. 
 
 When he had searched the body, a task which he 
 hated, for Weser disliked to touch the dead, he 
 dragged what had once been his comrade to the 
 square slab in the floor, and seizing the iron ring, 
 lifted the slab. From the black depths a foul odor 
 crept. It nauseated him, and he seized the corpse 
 by the feet and pushed it he^d-foremost into the 
 
 416
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 
 
 hole. Then he turned on the water in the sink, 
 mopped up the lake of bright red blood with the 
 table covering, and flung it into the hole. 
 
 When he had washed his hands and replaced the 
 slab in the stone floor, he counted the twenty-franc 
 pieces in the bag, carefully arranging them in piles 
 of ten each. Several were badly defaced, and he 
 rubbed his thumb nail over them, whistling under 
 his breath. Then he examined the plunder taken 
 from Tribert s pockets. In one pile he placed a hand 
 some American watch, a gold pencil case, a silver- 
 handled knife, a bunch of keys, and a gold-rimmed 
 wallet stuffed with twenty-franc pieces. A handful 
 of silver coins he dropped into his own pocket, and 
 then sat down to read the letters and papers ; but 
 they were unpleasantly smeared with blood, and he 
 finally took them, together with a revolver, a sabre, 
 a bundle of order blanks, and a tobacco pouch stuffed 
 with cigarette materials, and dropped them into the 
 hole. For a moment he stooped, listening to the 
 faint clash of the sabre as it struck the sides of the 
 well, then the odor of death and decay sickened 
 him, and he once more replaced the iron-ringed slab. 
 When he had washed his hands again, and had pock 
 eted the plunder from Tribert s corpse, he was ready 
 to go ; and he went, humming a tune. 
 
 At the street gate below he halted a moment. Some 
 where in the city, across the Seine, the drums were 
 beating the alarm, and the tocsin added its clamor 
 to the rising tumult. His battalion, the "Aven 
 gers," lay behind the barricades across the river. 
 Should he join it ? For a moment he hesitated, then
 
 41 8 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 turned in the opposite direction, walking swiftly, 
 holding his sabre tightly under his left arm. 
 
 The day was Sunday, the 2ist of May, or, as the 
 Commune styled it, " 3rd Prairial of the year 79." 
 It was late in the afternoon, and the fury of the 
 bombardment had slackened toward the Point-du- 
 Jour, now merely a heap of smoking ruins ; for the 
 Versaillist batteries had riddled the viaduct, driven 
 away or sunk the gun-boats under its arches, and had 
 cleared the neighboring bastions of men and can 
 non. The fort of Montrouge and the batteries at 
 Moulin-Saquet still replied to the Versailles bat 
 teries, or flung their shells among the thickets of 
 the Bois-de-Boulogne : and Delescluze, now delegue 
 civil a la guerre, was very well satisfied with his 
 inspection of these forts, and the enceinte of the 
 south and east. 
 
 The rue Notre Dame had so far escaped the shells, 
 but on the 2ist of May, at five o clock in the after 
 noon, a huge projectile appeared in the sky above the 
 Pont Neuf. Shrieking, hissing, it fell in the Luxem 
 bourg Gardens, and exploded among a group of 
 children and nurse-maids. Then horror multiplied 
 on horror ; the air was rent by howling shells, and 
 the crash of explosions drowned the shrieks of in 
 nocent women and children. 
 
 The " Avengers " massed behind the barricade on 
 the rue Notre Dame heard the tumult and waited 
 impatiently for their new Colonel, Weser. 
 
 " The shells will be falling among us before long," 
 they growled ; " we won t stay here to be decimated 
 without firing a shot."
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 419 
 
 "We want our Colonel!" clamored the officers, 
 angrily, as a shell struck a house at the bottom of 
 the rue Vavin and exploded with a startling 
 " bang-g-g ! " 
 
 " It appears to me that your Colonel is a coward," 
 observed a man wearing a red ribbon across his 
 breast. 
 
 " That s it ! A coward ! a coward ! " shouted the 
 soldiers, lifting their rifles above their heads and 
 shaking them with rage. " Give us a leader ! Give 
 us a man ! To the fortifications ! to the fortifica 
 tions ! " 
 
 " I will lead you," said the man who wore the red 
 sash across his breast. 
 
 " What s your name ? " yelled an officer. 
 
 " Delescluze, delegu civil a la guerre, citizens ! " 
 
 Then the troops broke into maddening shouts of 
 joy, and the drums rolled from the rue Vavin. 
 
 " Delescluze ! Delescluze ! Forward ! He will 
 lead us into fire ! " they howled, and the rue Notre 
 Dame echoed with the confused din of departure. 
 
 From the iron gateway of a court-yard, half way 
 up the street, a face, with two frightened eyes, 
 appeared, cautiously reconnoitring. As the 
 "Avengers," company after company, tramped away 
 through the rue Notre Dame and swung into the 
 rue Vavin cheering for Delescluze and the Com 
 mune, the face was thrust farther and farther from 
 the gate ; and at last, as the rear of the battalion 
 disappeared around the corner of the Convent, the 
 head, shoulders, and finally the whole body of the 
 anxious watcher appeared. It was Joseph Lelocard,
 
 420 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 concierge to Philip Landes. Trouble and fright 
 had paled Joseph s features. His face, now thin 
 and unkempt, worked convulsively for a moment, 
 then he turned hastily back into the alley and, gal 
 loping through the garden, entered the studio with 
 out knocking. Ellice was sitting before the empty 
 fireplace, his head in his hands, and he looked up, 
 startled, as Joseph entered. 
 
 "What in Heaven s name he began, but 
 Joseph s face was radiant, and he swung his arms 
 about his head in a delirium of joy. 
 
 " The Federals have gone ! Oh, Monsieur Jack, 
 they have gone ! Not a single Communard remains 
 in the rue Notre Dame! You do not believe me! 
 You turn pale and tremble ! Yet I, Joseph Lelo- 
 card, say it they have gone ! " 
 
 " What is it, Monsieur Ellice ? " cried Marguerite, 
 coming to the balcony of the room above. She was 
 very pale but more beautiful than ever. 
 
 " Mademoiselle de Saint-Brieuc," stammered El 
 lice, " Joseph says the Federals have gone." 
 
 " Come for yourself and see, Monsieur Ellice, 
 come and see, Mademoiselle de Saint-Brieuc, it is 
 as I say ! " 
 
 " If they have gone really gone this time," said 
 Marguerite, slowly, " we should not lose a single 
 moment. For the man who got into the garden 
 yesterday was a spy ; there can be no doubt about 
 it, and Raoul Rigault will not leave us in peace for 
 many hours more." 
 
 " I fear he was a spy," said Ellice ; " I have tried 
 not to be anxious or frighten you, but I have no
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 421 
 
 doubt that he was here from Rigault s police. We 
 ought to leave this place at once. How soon can 
 you get ready ? " 
 
 " I am ready," she replied. 
 
 " Mademoiselle is right ; it is better not to take 
 anything with you through the streets," said Joseph. 
 
 " Then come quickly," cried Ellice, putting on his 
 hat ; " I have all the money with me." 
 
 Marguerite ran down the stairs into the studio, 
 and they walked hastily through the garden, Joseph 
 following. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mademoiselle ; good-bye, Monsieur," 
 he said, while the tears ran over his cheeks ; " I will 
 take good care of the studio and the puppy. If God 
 wills it, you will come back and bring my poor, 
 dear Monsieur Philip and and Mademoiselle de 
 Brassac " he was blubbering outright now, and 
 Ellice shook his hard hand silently. 
 
 " We will come back, my good Joseph," said Mar 
 guerite, with tears in her eyes ; and followed Ellice 
 into the rue Notre Dame. Ten minutes later, as 
 Joseph stood in the doorway of his lodge, contem 
 plating a bone which Toodles had recently disin 
 terred from a flower bed, a file of National Guards 
 entered the alley-way and halted before him. But 
 it was two late, the birds were on the wing, and 
 Ferre, who led the file of soldiers, retired, menacing 
 Joseph with future punishment in case it was proved 
 that he knew of the fugitives flight. For Joseph 
 had done the idiot act to perfection, and Ferre, mut 
 tering " imbecile, cretin, idiot ! " went out banging 
 the gate violently.
 
 422 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 By half-past five o clock Ellice and Marguerite 
 had managed to reach the Trocadero. Their path 
 to the American Legation was a tortuous one, for 
 barricades cut the streets everywhere, and long, 
 weary detours were necessary. 
 
 " I don t know," said Ellice ; " this seems to be 
 almost hopeless. Here we are at the Trocadero and 
 not the slightest prospect of getting any nearer to 
 Mr. Washburn." 
 
 "Ah, if his Excellency only knew!" sighed Mar 
 guerite. Then in a low voice she continued : " Don t 
 look, Jack, but a man is watching us from the 
 kiosque behind you. What shall we do ? " 
 
 " Is it a Federal soldier ? " 
 
 " No a citizen ; oh, he is coming ! " 
 
 Ellice turned and faced the man, who was now 
 close to them. 
 
 " Whom are you seeking in this quarter, citizen ? " 
 asked the man, politely lifting his hat. 
 
 Ellice did not answer. 
 
 " You appear to be lost," said the man. " Are you 
 looking for any street to which I may be able to 
 direct you ? " 
 
 "No, Monsieur began Marguerite then 
 bit her lip, for she had forgotten to say " Citizen " 
 instead of " Monsieur," and the man would know 
 that they were either suspects or fugitives. 
 
 Then the man began to laugh. " Do not be 
 alarmed, Madame," he said, " I also belong to your 
 party. My name is Ducatel, Conducteur des Fonts 
 et Chausees. You can speak freely. Can I aid you ? " 
 
 " Indeed you can," said Ellice, " if you really
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 423 
 
 mean it. We are homeless. Can you give us a roof 
 for the night ? " 
 
 " I would be very happy to do so. I live near 
 the Point-du-Jour, but in my house the cellar is the 
 safest place just now. If you will do me the honor 
 to follow me, I will lead you there in twenty min 
 utes," said Ducatel, pleasantly. 
 
 Ellice was inclined to be suspicious of Monsieur 
 Ducatel and his offer, and said so frankly. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " laughed the Frenchman, "it is 
 your affair. I regret that these times make friends 
 seem like enemies, but I can only offer you what I 
 have." 
 
 " Then we accept your offer," said Ellice, a little 
 ashamed ; and he and Marguerite followed Monsieur 
 Ducatel toward the Point-du-Jour. 
 
 " Do you not think it is strange that we meet no 
 Federal troops?" said Ducatel, after they had been 
 walking for ten minutes in silence. Ellice looked 
 about him. It was twilight. The long rows of 
 empty streets stretched away into Paris, and in the 
 lamps no lights appeared. The houses stood up on 
 every side, black, battered, and deserted. He began 
 to realize the desolation of the scene and glanced at 
 Ducatel. 
 
 The Frenchman hurried on, growing more and 
 more excited as he neared the fortifications. 
 
 " Monsieur," he cried, " I believe the Federals 
 have abandoned the quarter ! See the marks that 
 the shells leave, everywhere ruin and destruction, 
 ha ! there is a barricade ; can you see any move 
 ment behind it ? "
 
 424 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " It is abandoned," said Ellice, quickly, catching 
 the excitement. 
 
 "Then do you know that nothing is here to prevent 
 the entry of the Versailles troops ! " cried Ducatel. 
 " It seems incredible that the Federals should leave 
 the ramparts. Just look how battered they are ! 
 That breach would be wide enough in a few days at 
 any rate. What a chance the Versaillists have if 
 they only knew it ! " 
 
 " Suppose we try to attract their attention," said 
 Marguerite. 
 
 Ducatel looked at her. Then he drew out his 
 handkerchief and tied it to the end of his umbrella. 
 
 " Madame is right," he said eagerly, " we can try. 
 The Versaillists are not two hundred metres from the 
 bastions. 
 
 Ellice and Marguerite started to follow him to the 
 ramparts but he waved them back. 
 
 " They may fire," he said, " why risk three 
 lives ? " 
 
 " Is it necessary to mount the ramparts ? " asked 
 Marguerite ; " why not try to signal them from the 
 gate there ? " 
 
 " Better still," muttered Ducatel. 
 
 Ellice and Marguerite helped him drag the iron 
 grille open and then the Frenchman stepped along 
 the massive sally-port, peering anxiously out through 
 the twilight into the country beyond. Ellice and 
 Marguerite were too excited to stay behind, and 
 presently the three stood on the extreme edge of the 
 moat, waving handkerchiefs and hats in the direction 
 of the Versailles trenches. One by one a dozen dark
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 42$ 
 
 heads bobbed up from the rifle pits and Ellice caught 
 the glitter of musket barrels in the starlight. 
 
 " Go back, Mademoiselle," he said hastily, " they 
 may fire ! " but Marguerite refused. 
 
 The minutes passed and the dark forms in the dis 
 tant trenches increased in number, but no answering 
 signals came back. Ducatel was in despair. " Ten 
 to one they think it a trick !" he said bitterly ; "you, 
 Madame, and you also, Monsieur, should not expose 
 yourselves, for I, for my part, expect a volley." 
 Ellice tried to lead Marguerite back to the shelter 
 of the gateway, but she refused obstinately and 
 swung her handkerchief in desperation. 
 
 " They must understand ! " she kept repeating, 
 " oh ! do you not think they will ? " Then, as they 
 looked, a form leaped from the trenches, bearing 
 aloft a white rag tied to a sabre. 
 
 " They understand ! They are coming ! " cried 
 Ellice. 
 
 Ducatel waved his umbrella frantically. Nearer 
 and nearer came the grey figure, and now they heard 
 a challenge shouted across the fields ; " Don t fire ! 
 Officer with flag of truce ! " 
 
 " Thank God ! " sobbed Marguerite. 
 
 Ducatel sprang forward on the causeway, and 
 Ellice saw him join the Versailles officer in the 
 middle of the field. The meeting was unmistakably 
 cordial, for he saw Ducatel fling himself into the 
 officer s arms and embrace him vigorously. Then 
 a whistle sounded and out of the trenches sprang 
 masses of men, and before Ellice had time to think, 
 they were pouring across the causeway to the shat 
 tered sally-port.
 
 426 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Is it deserted ? " cried an officer, incredulously. 
 
 "Yes! Yes! Hurry!" replied Ellice, laughing 
 with joy ; " there s not a Federal in the Trocadero 
 quarter ! " 
 
 From the star-lit fields outside the trenches, long 
 dark columns now appeared, infantry and artillery, 
 and presently a field battery clanked through the 
 sally-port. Ellice drew Marguerite aside to let it 
 pass. She was weeping now, for the joy of sudden 
 deliverance was too great. As they watched the 
 passing cannon, out from the throng and press of 
 horsemen a cavalier trotted, holding a torch. The 
 glimmering light fell full on men and cannon, and 
 Ellice smiled silent greetings to many a bronzed 
 artilleryman, bumping in through the gateway. The 
 batteries rumbled past, and an officer, riding a fiery 
 black charger, attempted to cut out ahead of the 
 caissons. 
 
 " Go back ! " said Ellice, " you will crush us ! " But 
 Marguerite sprang forward and caught at his stirrup. 
 
 "Alain ! " she cried, " oh, Alain ! " 
 
 The officer bent in his stirrups and, seizing the 
 girl, swung her to the saddle in front of him. Then 
 raising his hand, he shouted, " Halt ! halt ! " and the 
 long file of guns and caissons stopped. 
 
 " What is the trouble, Captain de Carette ? " cried 
 an officer hurrying up from the rear. 
 
 " No trouble, Major my wife was in danger for a 
 moment. Wait until I take her out ahead of the 
 train now you can order them forward." 
 
 And so Captain Alain de Carette rode into Paris 
 at the head of his battery with his fainting wife on his 
 saddle-bow.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE VIVANDIERE OF THE 66TH. 
 
 ON the night of the twenty-second of May, forty 
 prisoners were hurriedly transferred from 
 the Mazas Prison to the prison of La Grande 
 Roquette. Of these forty, Monseigneur Darboy, 
 Archbishop of Paris, was the most important in the 
 eyes of the Commune ; the least important were 
 Philip Landes and Jeanne de Brassac. 
 
 That morning, as Delescluze, delegue civil a la 
 guerre, sat consulting with Raoul Rigault in the 
 Hotel de Ville, a messenger arrived breathless with 
 the news that the Versaillists were in Paris. 
 
 Rigault bellowed his astonishment, but Deles 
 cluze, scornfully discrediting the news, jumped into 
 a carriage and drove rapidly toward the Trocade"ro 
 to see for himself. An hour later he returned, hag 
 gard and anxious. 
 
 " The gate of the Point-du-Jour was abandoned 
 last night," he said, " and the enemy hold the Tro- 
 cadero ! " 
 
 " Then," replied Rigault, coolly, " I must hurry 
 my executions. Where is Colonel Weser ? " 
 
 " Deserted," said Delescluze, in a low voice. 
 
 "You d better inform the Commune," returned 
 Rigault ; " au revoir, I m going to shoot a few 
 
 427
 
 428 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 priests," and he walked away toward the Mazas 
 Prison. 
 
 Delescluze called Fortin and told him all. 
 
 " They can never pass the barricades ! " growled 
 Fortin, but Ferre, yelling like a lunatic, burst into 
 the council chamber of the Commune, shaking his 
 fists and rolling his bloodshot eyes. 
 
 "Treachery! Treachery !" he shouted ; "theVer- 
 saillists are in Paris ! " 
 
 The Commune rose in a body, angry, incredu 
 lous. 
 
 " Who dared say it?" thundered Sicard, his face 
 distorted with passion. 
 
 " To the barricades ! " cried another, and pande 
 monium broke loose in the Hotel de Ville. 
 
 Then began that horrible seven days fight in the 
 streets of Paris, where thirty-five thousand Federals 
 were butchered by the Versailles troops. In three 
 divisions MacMahon s army encircled the city, and 
 hour by hour the circle contracted, leaving heaps of 
 corpses, and gutters pouring blood into the over 
 flowing sewers. Street after street, barricade after 
 barricade fell, and inch by inch Thiers army fought 
 its way through Paris amid the frenzied acclamations 
 of the citizens, while the Commune, retreating from 
 the blood-wet barricades, turned savagely on the 
 people with torch and sword. 
 
 Heavy explosions shook the city to its founda 
 tions ; the splendid rue Royale was blazing, and the 
 Ministry of Finance, its noble facade dripping with 
 petroleum, caught fire and sent a roaring pillar of 
 flame into the sky. Ruffians from Belleville and
 
 THE VIVANDIERE OF THE 66 TH. 429 
 
 the Faubourgs dashed pails of petroleum over mu 
 seums and palaces, or pumped it out of fire-engines, 
 directing streams of kerosene from the great fire 
 hose, over wall, roof, and spire. The Tuileries vom 
 ited flames from every window, the Louvre, the 
 Palais Royale, the Conseil d Etat, the Palace of the 
 Legion of Honor, all were burning. An enormous 
 mushroom-shaped cloud hung over Paris, hiding the 
 sun, and through the pall of smoke and dust 
 plunged the shells from Mont-Valerien, whistling, 
 shrieking, bursting, and crashing, among the barri 
 cades, drowning the fierce roar of the flames and 
 rattle of musketry. The Palais de Justice sank to 
 the ground, a heap of glowing coals, through which 
 the Sainte-Chapelle showed intact. When the Pre 
 fecture of Police began to pour out volumes of thick 
 black smoke, Raoul Rigault sauntered out of it with 
 a sneer on his lips. 
 
 A man, standing all alone on the corner opposite, 
 watched the conflagration with satisfaction until the 
 66th battalion of Federals appeared at the lower 
 end of the street closely pressed by a body of Ver 
 sailles dragoons. Then the man, who wore the 
 uniform of an insurgent staff-officer, started to run, 
 but his progress was interrupted by a fresh influx of 
 Federals from the opposite end of the street, and he 
 struggled for a moment to disengage himself. 
 
 "Where are you going, Citizen?" cried a young 
 girl whom he had jostled. She was dressed in the 
 uniform of a regimental Vivandiere, and carried her 
 left hand in a sling. 
 
 " Tiens, it s Isidor Weser ! " she added, angrily ;
 
 430 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " running away too. This won t do, you know, 
 Citizen Weser ! " 
 
 " Let me alone ! " panted Weser, starting to run 
 again. 
 
 " Stop him ! " cried the Vivandiere, " he is desert 
 ing in the face of the enemy ! " 
 
 " I 11 fix you, Faustine Courtois ! " snarled Weser, 
 trembling with fright, and he struck at her savagely 
 with the hilt of his sabre. The blow fell on the 
 interposed barrel of a rifle, and two Federal soldiers 
 seized him by the collar. 
 
 " Oh, he strikes at the Commune, does he ? " cried 
 a soldier, snatching a revolver from his red sash, 
 "let us settle this gentleman s affair! " 
 
 Before he could fire, however, he was knocked off 
 his feet by a sudden stampede of the insurgents. 
 The Versailles dragoons were among them, sabring, 
 shooting, trampling, but the 66th battalion rallied 
 and threw themselves on the horsemen like wild 
 beasts, howling, bayoneting, tearing tooth and nail 
 until the dragoons wheeled and fled. 
 
 There was a barricade on the rue Caumartin, and 
 to that refuge the fragments of the 66th surged, 
 Weser among them, bleeding, dishevelled, and ter 
 ribly frightened. 
 
 Faustine, one hand in a sling, a revolver in the 
 other, marched behind him, her pretty face pale but 
 determined. The Federals threw themselves behind 
 the barricade, thrusting their smoke-stained rifles 
 over the top, glaring furiously toward the distant 
 corner where their comrades corpses lay heaped 
 among the stiffening horses of dead dragoons.
 
 THE VIVANDIERE OF THE 66 TH. 431 
 
 Faustine cast a scornful glance at Weser, mounted 
 the barricade, and turned to the soldiers below. 
 
 "Brothers," she said, quietly, "the assassins are 
 here, the assassins of Versailles ! They bring us 
 death or slavery. Choose ! " 
 
 " Death ! " cried the insurgents " down with the 
 Royalists ! Vive la Commune ! " 
 
 " Vive la Republique ! " echoed the girl in a clear 
 voice. 
 
 At that moment a staff officer, who walked very 
 unsteadily, entered the barricade from the rear and 
 attempted to pass the sentinels. 
 
 " Qui vive ! " they demanded. 
 
 " Go to h 1 ! " replied the officer, attempting to 
 draw his sabre. 
 
 " Citizen," cried Faustine, " you can t pass without 
 the countersign." 
 
 "Hey! Shut up, you hussy!" he shouted, and 
 added a gross insult. Faustine stood silent, the hot 
 flush of shame staining her neck and cheeks. 
 
 " Drunken fool," sneered Rigault, tripping him up, 
 and shot him to death as he sprawled in the gutter. 
 Then he hurried away, saying : " Bayonet that man 
 Weser, I am going to shoot some priests." 
 
 They hunted high and low for Weser, and finally 
 found him hiding under a gabion. " To the wall ! 
 To the wall!" they cried. "Death to cowards!" 
 Weser fought, biting and scratching, to the foot of 
 the blood-spattered wall, but as they jerked him to 
 his feet, a cry arose : " Look out ! the Line ! " and the 
 lower end of the street was filled with Versailles 
 sharpshooters. In an instant the barricade spurted
 
 43 2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 flame and the field-piece crashed out, hurling a storm 
 of canister over the pavement. Weser lay quite still 
 for a moment, then cautiously dragged himself to 
 the vestibule of the opposite house and curled up in 
 the darkest corner. 
 
 The fusilade from the barricade had swept the 
 Versailles infantry off the pavement, but they still 
 fired from the corner of the street and bright jets of 
 flame shot from the closed blinds of the houses on 
 either side of the rue Caumartin. Presently muffled 
 explosions told the Federals that the enemy were 
 blowing their way through the house walls to out 
 flank them. 
 
 " Never mind ! Courage ! " cried Faustine, " the 
 barricade will hold in front. Turn your cannon on 
 that yellow house, citizen Faure ! " 
 
 " They will try the bayonet soon," said Genton, 
 who had just entered the barricade with his secretary, 
 Fortin. 
 
 " Let them ! " smiled Faustine. 
 
 " They take no prisoners," said Sicard ; " the six 
 poor fellows whom they captured an hour ago were 
 shoved against the first wall without mercy." 
 
 " Very well," cried Genton ; " we also can shoot. 
 What is Rigault doing with his hundreds of priests 
 and gendarmes? Why don t he shoot six prisoners 
 also?" 
 
 " It s a good time to settle the Archbishop ! " 
 suggested Sicard. 
 
 " Then let us settle him ! " urged Fortin. " Here, 
 Sicard, come with Genton and me. Take half a dozen 
 volunteers and we 11 find Ferre and get the order."
 
 THE VIVANDIERE OF THE 66 TH. 433 
 
 Faustina, standing on the barricade, heard Fortin s 
 threat and protested. " Citizen Fortin, you are 
 doing a shameful thing ! " 
 
 " You don t know what you re talking about," 
 said Sicard, brutally ; " shut up and mind your 
 business ! " 
 
 "I protest!" cried Faustine ; "it is murder! 
 Why should you harm that old man ! Fortin, you 
 are my friend 
 
 Fortin looked at her calmly for a moment and 
 then laughed. " You are very pretty," he said, 
 " but you can t teach me ! What do you care, 
 anyhow? " 
 
 " Have you no shame ? " cried Faustine, angrily. 
 " Have you no courage except to murder priests ? 
 Is this then the Commune ? Is this the cause for 
 which we fight ? " There were tears in her eyes and 
 she brushed them away. 
 
 " Get down from that barricade," said Fortin, 
 " they are firing at you." She paid no attention to 
 the warning, but began to plead earnestly for the 
 life of the Archbishop. 
 
 " He is so old," she said, " so helpless and gentle. 
 Has he ever harmed anyone ? I trusted you, Fortin." 
 
 "Let him die anyway," growled Sicard; "we 
 want six, and he s no better than any of the 
 others." 
 
 " He must die," said Fortin, coldly, " but I m not 
 particular who the other five are." 
 
 " I am," shouted a soldier standing behind him. 
 " My name is Martin, and I demand the death of 
 
 the American, Landes." 
 
 28
 
 434 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Martin ! Martin ! " cried Faustina, trying to 
 make a diversion " and who cares if your name is 
 Martin?" 
 
 " That s all very well," said the soldier, doggedly, 
 " but I demand the death of the American, Landes." 
 
 " Well, it s as easy to shoot a Yankee as a French 
 man we 11 finish him along with the priest," said 
 Genton ; " come along, Fortin." 
 
 " Come down from the barricade," cried Fortin, as 
 a bullet struck the stone at Faustine s feet. 
 
 " Not until you promise me to spare the Arch 
 bishop and the American." 
 
 " Come down, you fool." 
 
 Faustine looked him steadily in the eyes. 
 " Emile," she said, " do you hear ? I forbid you to 
 shoot the American." A volley from the Ver 
 sailles troops drowned her voice, but she went on as 
 soon as she could be heard : " I demand the protec 
 tion of the Commune for the American, Landes." 
 A second volley cut her short, and a whistling 
 shower of bullets spattered the barricade. Fortin 
 caught Faustine by the wrist and tried to pull her 
 down. 
 
 " You re in the way ! They are coming ! We 
 must fire ! " 
 
 " Let me go ! " she panted, struggling and clinging 
 to the wall. 
 
 " Get down, you little idiot ; can t you see you re 
 obstructing our cannon ? " 
 
 " Fire your cannon ! " she screamed, wringing her 
 self free. 
 
 " Will you get down ? :
 
 THE VIVANDIERE OF THE 66 TH. 435 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Fire, then ! " yelled Martin, jerking the lanyard. 
 
 " My God ! " shouted Fortin, " the girl was in 
 front ! " He sprang on Martin, and they rolled over 
 and over, till Fortin could draw his sabre. A mo 
 ment later he picked himself up, streaming with 
 blood. 
 
 " Now for the Archbishop," he cried in a voice 
 like nothing human. Followed by Sicard, Genton, 
 and six more grimy insurgents, he left the barricade.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " THE PRISON OF THE CONDEMNED." 
 
 THE light was growing dim in the long corridor 
 of the " Prison of the Condemned," and 
 Francois, the Governor, rubbed his eyes, and 
 bent lower over the file of papers on the table 
 before him. 
 
 " I can t see, here, Remain, get me a lamp," he 
 said, yawning and scratching his head. The Briga 
 dier Romain departed, and returned in a few mo 
 ments with a lighted lamp. The Governor blinked 
 and yawned again. 
 
 " It makes me sick," he said, " to have that whin 
 ing priest on my hands. Why does n t Rigault 
 shoot him. He s always miauling and praying and 
 pretending he s sick." 
 
 " He says he can t sleep on the board in his cell," 
 observed the Brigadier Romain. 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " He says he s old and sick." 
 
 "And an Archbishop; that s the trouble, he 
 thinks he s an Archbishop still ! I 11 correct that 
 impression. I wish I d left him in No. i. Cell 23 
 is the best cell in La Grande Roquette, and he d 
 better be satisfied. And you tell him to stop writing 
 on the wall. I won t have it. What did he write 
 just now?"
 
 " THE PRISON OF THE CONDEMNED." 437 
 
 " Oh, some Jesuit foolishness the cross is the 
 strength of life and the salvation of the soul/ " 
 
 " In French ? " 
 
 "No, Latin." 
 
 " Then," growled Fran$ois, " it s some cipher sig 
 nal and I won t have it, you understand ? These 
 Jesuits are devils at treachery. Did you change all 
 the prisoners on this tier?" 
 
 "All," said Romain, with his misleading pleasant 
 smile. Fran9ois turned and looked along the dark 
 passage. The central corridor was lined on either 
 side by massive doors, each pierced by a small 
 "judas" with iron crossbars. In the centre of this 
 corridor were half a dozen wash-stands, through the 
 basins of which water ran continually. 
 
 There was no furniture in cell or corridor except 
 the iron benches let into the solid masonry, and the 
 single chair and table, which was only for the Gov 
 ernor s use. A grating at the farther end of the 
 corridor looked out on the grassy prison court, and 
 just beyond one could see the chapel, and a sec 
 tion of the wall surrounding the circular road or 
 " ronde." 
 
 Francois peered into the prison twilight, then 
 shuffled to his feet and passed along the rows of 
 cell doors, touching each lightly with the roll of 
 paper in his hand, followed by Romain. 
 
 " Who s there, what s the number? " 
 
 " Twenty-two, it s the Jesuit, Gurin." 
 
 " What ! And the Archbishop in the next cell ! 
 You re asleep. Put that American, Landes, in there 
 after the roll-call, and shove the Jesuit into the
 
 438 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 American s cell. Whom did you put in twenty- 
 four?" 
 
 " That baby-faced friend of the American who 
 proved to be a woman." 
 
 " Let the slut stay there then, but don t lock any 
 more Jesuits next to the Archbishop, or by God 
 
 " Now, now," urged Remain, " you must remem 
 ber that he is n t an Archbishop ! " 
 
 " Slip of the tongue." 
 
 " And you forget that God is out of date ; you Ve 
 sworn by Him twice." 
 
 " Did I," sneered Francois ; " well we all make 
 fools of ourselves at times, and nursery rhymes are 
 not easily forgotten. You don t suspect me, do 
 you? " 
 
 "Oh, no," said Remain. 
 
 "You d better not ! " blustered Francois. 
 
 " Of course not," repeated Remain, in his soft, 
 pleasant voice. 
 
 The Governor turned and looked at him. " You re 
 the damnedest, scoundrelly hypocrite unhung!" he 
 said ; " you can spy about and fool the prisoners 
 with your sympathetic ways, but you d better not 
 try any treachery on me ! " 
 
 " You wrong me," said Romain with a sincere 
 manner that would have misled anybody but the 
 Governor. 
 
 " Oh, I know I do," said Francois ; " what did you 
 worm out of the Jesuit, Guerin, this morning? " 
 
 " Not very much. He says the Archbishop relies 
 on Thiers, implicitly." 
 
 " Then he s the biggest fool in Paris. What time 
 is it ? "
 
 THE PRISON OF THE CONDEMNED" 439 
 
 " Six." 
 
 " It s too late to turn the prisoners out. I sup 
 pose they can stand it ; if they can t, I can, and it s 
 all the same." 
 
 " Will you call the roll ? " asked Romain. 
 
 " Yes, give me that lamp and unlock the doors." 
 
 Romain unhooked a heavy bunch of keys from 
 his belt and rapidly unlocked the cell doors, passing 
 from one to the other with a light swiftness which 
 argued practice and devotion to his profession. 
 
 " Cell number one ! Caubert ! " cried the Gov 
 ernor, holding the long sheet of paper close to 
 the lamp in his hand. The cell door at the end of 
 the corridor opened from within and a pleasant- 
 faced priest walked out and stood facing the Gov 
 ernor. Francois raised the lamp in his hand and 
 eyed the priest. " Caubert ! " he repeated. 
 
 " I am here," said the priest. 
 
 " Then go back again," said the Governor, bru 
 tally. Pere Caubert turned back to his cell with a 
 touch of irony in his quiet smile, and the Governor 
 locked him in. 
 
 " Number two! Ducoudray ! " cried Francois. 
 
 " I am here," said Father Ducoudray. He was 
 locked in without comment. 
 
 " Number three ! Olivaint ! " 
 
 " Here." 
 
 " Number four ! Allard ! " 
 
 " Here ! " 
 
 " Yes, here now, but probably under ground be 
 fore long," sneered the Governor. 
 
 " If God wills," said Father Allard. 
 
 " If Rno-. .l Rigault wills," mimicked Francois,
 
 44 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 slamming the cell door. Presently he came to cell 
 twenty-two. 
 
 " Twenty-two ! Guerin ! " 
 
 " Here ! " 
 
 " Where s that American," asked Francois, turn 
 ing to Romain. " Oh, you Ve got him with you, eh ? 
 Then run this Jesuit into his cell and put him next 
 to the Arch to the old fox, Darboy, so. Landes, 
 I hope you won t mind the smell of a Jesuit. We 11 
 air your cell in the morning ; " and he closed the 
 door on Philip s heels. 
 
 " Twenty-three ! Darboy ! " 
 
 " You 11 have to open the door and go in. He s 
 too sick to get up," observed Romain. 
 
 " He s got to get up ! " cried the Governor, and 
 at the same moment the Archbishop appeared on 
 the threshold of his cell. His hair was white as 
 snow, and his long white beard which had grown 
 in prison fell untrimmed on his breast. 
 
 " I am here," said the Archbishop in a voice weak 
 with pain. 
 
 " Glad to see you. Exercise will do you good," 
 said Francois ; " do you sleep well? " 
 
 " No," said the old man. 
 
 " Evil conscience ! " commented the Governor, 
 and slammed the door in his face. " Twenty-four ! 
 Citoyenne ! " 
 
 " I am here," said Jeanne de Brassac, stepping 
 from her cell. 
 
 " Ah, you little devil of a spy, I d like to ring 
 your neck," observed Frangois, leering at her. 
 
 Jeanne, still clothed in the faded uniform of the
 
 THE PRISON OF THE CONDEMNED" 44! 
 
 Subsistence Department, leaned wearily against the 
 cell door. It was not the first threat she had re 
 ceived from the Governor of La Grande Roquette. 
 
 " Faugh ! Get in there, you hussy ! " growled 
 Francois, and pushed the door back. Then he 
 moved on with his roll of paper and his little lamp, 
 and presently the great gate in the court clanged and 
 the corridor was silent, save for the measured tread 
 of the first night watch and the tinkling of the water 
 in the iron wash-basins. 
 
 Philip, sitting in his cell, heard the gate slam, and 
 knew that the Governor had gone. He sat thinking 
 for a moment, then rose and walked to the grating 
 which formed a section of the partition which sepa 
 rated his cell from the cell of the Archbishop. 
 Through this grating he could see across a portion 
 of the Archbishop s cell, and catch a glimpse of the 
 grating in the partition of the cell beyond, but the 
 light was growing so dim that the grating was merely 
 an indistinct blot in the twilight. He looked at the 
 Archbishop, lying silently on the wretched board 
 which projected from the wall. 
 
 " Monseigneur," he said, softly. 
 
 " My son," replied the old man, painfully rising on 
 his elbow and looking up. 
 
 " It is I Philip Landes, the American, Mon- 
 seigneur." 
 
 The Archbishop smiled. In the hours of recrea 
 tion in the court-yard he had become very fond of 
 Philip. 
 
 " So you are there now," he said ; "what has be 
 come of the Abbe Gue"rin ? "
 
 44 2 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " They put him into my old cell, Monseigneur. 
 Can I be of any use to you ? I have not yet eaten 
 my supper." 
 
 " Eat it, my son ; I thank you, but they give me 
 much more than I am able to eat." 
 
 " Are you suffering very much to-night, Mon 
 seigneur? " 
 
 " Not more than I can bear," said the old man. 
 " Do you know that Mademoiselle Jeanne is in the 
 cell beside mine ? " 
 
 " No. Will it disturb you, Monseigneur, if I speak 
 with her ? " 
 
 "I will call her myself," said the Archbishop; 
 " Jeanne ! Jeanne ! " Then Philip heard a timid 
 voice from the darkness ; " Je suis la, Monseigneur." 
 
 " Jeanne," called Philip, softly. 
 
 " Philip ! Oh, are you there, my darling?" 
 
 " Hush ! " said Philip, " or they will hear us. Are 
 you well ? Have you enough to eat ? I have my 
 supper here." 
 
 " Eat it, you silly boy ; I have all I wish for." 
 
 " And are you well ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," she replied, bravely ; " are you?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. You have not lost hope ? " 
 
 " No, no, not while you are there." 
 
 "And God lives," said the Archbishop. 
 
 " And God lives," they repeated reverently. 
 
 After a pause, Philip spoke again : 
 
 " Did you hear the firing this morning, Jeanne? " 
 
 " Yes. It seemed to be very near." 
 
 " A shell fell into the street outside about four 
 o clock. I saw it from my window in the opposite tier."
 
 THE PRISON OF THE CONDEMNED." 443 
 
 " Do do you think the Versaillists could have 
 entered ?" asked Jeanne, timidly. 
 
 " I dare hope so. That firing came from the city. 
 What else could it have been, unless they are mas 
 sacring the people." 
 
 " It may have been a peloton of execution," said 
 the Archbishop, feebly. 
 
 " I do not think so, Monseigneur ; it was not sin 
 gle volley firing, it sounded like the firing from a 
 barricade." 
 
 The old man was silent for a moment, then he 
 sighed and turned over on his board. 
 
 " I think I might sleep a little," he said at last. 
 
 " Then good-night, Monseigneur," they said. He 
 gave them his blessing, and turned his face to the 
 stone wall. 
 
 " Good-night, my darling," whispered Philip. 
 
 " Good-night, my own Philip," sighed Jeanne. 
 Then she stood silent, seized with a sudden terror. 
 
 " Hark!" cried the Archbishop, suddenly sitting 
 up and turning his head toward the cell door. From 
 the street outside came the sound they had learned 
 to know so well the voice of an angry crowd grow 
 ing louder and louder, until somewhere a great door 
 was flung open, and the dash of many feet sounded 
 on stone floors. Then came a single cry, ominous, 
 sinister, penetrating even the solid stone walls of the 
 Prison of the Condemned, " Death ! " 
 
 The Archbishop tottered to his feet and stood facing 
 his cell door. There came a shout, the clash of bayo 
 nets, and in a second the long corridor was filled with 
 the blazing light of torches and the rush of a mob.
 
 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 "What s this?" shouted the Governor of the 
 Prison, hastening into the corridor, half-dressed ; 
 " Remain, I call you to witness 
 
 " Oh, shut up ! " interrupted Fortin, contemptu 
 ously, " we ve got an order. Where s the old fox, 
 Darboy ? " 
 
 " Order ? From whom ? " 
 
 " Ferre ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " said the Governor, " that s another mat 
 ter." He looked at the motley throng, Garibaldians, 
 Hussars of Death, Avengers of the Republic, Na 
 tional Guards, and deserters. 
 
 " Who commands ? " he asked, briefly. 
 
 "I, Jean Verig, captain of the iSoth ! " roared a 
 villainous-browed fellow. 
 
 " No, you don t, you fool ! " said Fortin, " I do, 
 and here is my order," shoving it under the Gov 
 ernor s nose. 
 
 " I can t see it, read it," said Francois, sulkily. 
 
 Then Fortin read in a loud voice : 
 
 " The Citizen Governor of the Prison of the Con 
 demned is hereby ordered to execute six hostages 
 notably the Sieur Darboy, calling himself Arch 
 bishop of Paris. 
 
 (Signed) " FERRE, 
 
 " RAOUL RIGAULT." 
 
 "That is all right," said Francois, rubbing his 
 hands. " We 11 take the first six on your list. Read 
 the names ! " 
 
 " Silence ! " commanded Fortin, and read the first 
 six names in a heavy voice :
 
 THE PRISON OF THE CONDEMNED" 44$ 
 
 " Darboy. 
 
 " Deguerry. 
 
 " Bonjean. 
 
 " Clerc. 
 
 " Allard. 
 
 " Ducoudray." 
 
 Brigadier Remain had opened a cell door and the 
 Archbishop dragged his fever-racked frame across 
 the threshold. 
 
 " Are you the Citizen Darboy ? " demanded Verig. 
 
 " Yes, my son." 
 
 " Stand there, then ! " 
 
 "Am I to die? " 
 
 " Are you to die ? " mimicked Sicard ; " my faith ! 
 I think you are." 
 
 The five other victims were hastily led out of their 
 cells and placed in single file. Remain, swinging a 
 lantern, led the procession, followed by the motley 
 throng of Federals, Genton, Fortin, and Sicard 
 bringing up the rear with Francois. 
 
 Slowly they descended the stone steps, twenty-five 
 in number, entered a gallery which bordered the 
 facade opposite the court-yard, passed the doorway, 
 descended six more steps, and entered the path which 
 encircles the prison walls, the dreary " chemin de 
 ronde." Again they turned to the right, through 
 the garden of the hospital, through the " Salle des 
 Vieillards," and entered the second " chemin de 
 ronde." Here the Archbishop was taken suddenly 
 faint, for the road was long and he was very ill. The 
 President Bonjean was sobbing, and Sicard laughed 
 at him.
 
 446 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Coward," he said. 
 
 " It is not for myself, I have a family," said Bon- 
 jean. 
 
 " You cannot intend to shoot us," said the Arch 
 bishop, piteously ; " it is impossible 
 
 " Enough ! " cried Fortin, and the procession 
 moved on to the grille, passed it, and stood below 
 the exterior wall of the prison. 
 
 " Monseigneur ! " cried Father Clerc, falling on his 
 knees. All the priests knelt. The old man silently 
 blessed them, then tottered to his place against the 
 wall. 
 
 " Hurry ! " urged Francois, " or you can t see to 
 aim." 
 
 " Lend me your sabre," said Sicard to Fortin : 
 " I 11 order the firing." 
 
 Genton placed the armed mob in three ranks 
 and stepped back beside Francois. Father Allard 
 opened his soutane and bared his breast, and 
 at the same instant Sicard raised his sabre. The 
 rifles cracked sharply. " Fire ! " shouted Sicard 
 again, and again the rifles blazed. And, the 
 Archbishop still showing signs of life, Sicard mo 
 tioned a man to finish him with the bayonet and 
 strolled over to Genton. 
 
 " Well," he said, " that settles the Archbishop ! " 
 
 " My compliments," said Genton ; " have you got 
 a cigarette ? "
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE LAST BARRICADE. 
 
 THE morning after the Archbishop s murder, 
 two new prisoners were brought into the 
 " Prison of the Condemned." Francois in 
 spected them, while the Brigadier Romain read their 
 orders of arrest in a voice which seemed to vibrate 
 with -pity : 
 
 " Archibald Wilton, arrested by order of Raoul 
 Rigault, charged with treason. To be executed 
 without court-martial on receipt of signed order 
 from the Prefet of Police." 
 
 "Saves me trouble," continued Frangois ; "hey! 
 are you wounded ? " 
 
 " Hands shot off," said Wilton, drily. 
 
 " Let s see." 
 
 Wilton raised a mutilated arm. 
 
 "You 11 die anyway," observed Francois; "you 
 might as well be shot." 
 
 " If you want to shoot me you d better send me 
 a surgeon first," said Wilton, in a faint voice. 
 
 " I believe I will," mused the Governor, biting the 
 end of his pencil ; " if you die now I 11 have trouble 
 with Rigault. What s this woman here for ? " 
 
 Romain read from his order slip : 
 
 " Ynes Falaise, accused of speaking ill of the Com-
 
 44^ THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 mune, convicted of aiding the Versailles wounded, 
 notably the traitor Wilton. To be shot upon receipt 
 of order signed by Raoul Rigault." 
 
 The Governor leered at Ynes, who stood beside 
 Wilton. She was dressed in black, and wore a red 
 cross on her arm. " Who are you ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Ynes Falaise, formerly actress in the Folies St. 
 Antoine." Her voice was almost inaudible. 
 
 " You are not a religieuse now, are you ? " asked 
 Francois. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then why do you wear the Geneva Cross ? 
 Speak louder! " 
 
 " I devote myself to the wounded ! " 
 
 " Really ? Very commendable, indeed. Dressed 
 in black too?" sneered the Governor; "oh, how 
 pious ! What are you in mourning for ? " 
 
 " For my country s honor." 
 
 " Oh I thought it might have been for your own. 
 Is this traitor your lover? " 
 
 " I love him," she replied, and laid her hand lightly 
 on Wilton s shoulder. 
 
 " Then you can take care of him," roared the 
 Governor, " I won t work my surgeon to death 
 on every foreigner who comes here ! Take good 
 care that he lives long enough to be shot, you hussy, 
 or I 11 have you put out of the way with a clubbed 
 rifle ! Remain, throw that loving pair into the dead 
 Jesuit s cell, and ring the signal for recreation. The 
 prisoners will have to take it in here, for it s raining." 
 
 " Then these prisoners get no recreation to-day? " 
 
 " No, you fool ! Ring the signal ! "
 
 THE LAST BARRICADE. 449 
 
 The Brigadier Remain led Ynes and Wilton into 
 the cell of the dead Archbishop, locked the door, and 
 moved swiftly toward the end of the corridor where 
 a rope dangled from the great gong over the door 
 way. Landes, lying on the board in his cell, heard 
 the clang of the gong, and sprang to his feet eagerly, 
 for that signal meant an hour s liberty with Jeanne. 
 
 "Jeanne!" he called through the grating, his 
 eyes fixed on the bars across the intervening cell. 
 She came to her grating, and at the same moment 
 his eyes met the eyes of Wilton. 
 
 " Hello ! " said Wilton, weakly, " I heard that you 
 were here." Then Philip s astonished gaze fell upon 
 Ynes. She looked at him piteously. 
 
 " Monsieur Wilton is badly hurt," she said ; " I 
 am to nurse him 
 
 " So we can both be shot," gasped Wilton. "Are 
 you ill, Philip? " 
 
 Before Philip could reply, the door of his cell was 
 flung open, and the Brigadier Romain, smiling ami 
 ably, invited him to come out and get a little air. 
 
 In the long, dim corridor, hundreds of prisoners 
 were gathered, for the hour of recreation was the 
 same for all the tiers in La Grande Roquette, and 
 now the prisoners from the upper floors were crowd 
 ing down the small circular stairway into the im 
 mense corridor below. Everywhere groups were 
 congregating, but Philip noticed that gestures and 
 voices were more subdued than usual, especially 
 among the priests. 
 
 " They all know about the Archbishop," he 
 thought, and looked around for Jeanne. She was
 
 450 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 standing alone by one of the wash-basins, and he 
 made his way toward her through the throng of 
 priests, gendarmes, Versaillist soldiers, imprisoned 
 policemen, and Gardes de Paris. 
 
 " Who are the people in the cell between yours 
 and mine ? " she asked, laying both her hands in his. 
 He began to tell her, but stopped as the Governor 
 came up and eyed them insolently. 
 
 " Pretty birds ! " he said ; " now I have two pair of 
 turtle-doves caged here," and he made an insulting 
 gesture toward Jeanne. 
 
 " I have already told you what I should do if you 
 lay your hand on that lady," said Philip, between 
 his teeth. 
 
 The Governor looked at him for an instant. " That 
 is the third time you have threatened me," he said. 
 
 " I hope it will be sufficient," returned Philip, 
 doggedly. 
 
 The Brigadier Romain at that moment entered the 
 corridor, stole up behind the Governor, and touched 
 him on the shoulder. 
 
 " What do you want ? " said the Governor, his 
 eyes still fixed on Philip. 
 
 " Rigault is going to shoot some more priests and 
 gendarmes," he whispered ; " here is the list. Shall 
 I notify the gentlemen ? " 
 
 The Governor nodded, never removing his eyes 
 from Philip s, and Romain glided away among the 
 prisoners, tapping the condemned softly on the 
 shoulder with a cheerful : " We need seventy-five 
 this time; come, Monsieur! Pray do not look so 
 frightened, gentlemen."
 
 THE LAST B A RRICA DE. 4 5 I 
 
 There was the silence of death among the prison 
 ers, as a file of Federal soldiers entered the corridor 
 and closed in around the condemned. 
 
 " And you," said the Governor, stretching his 
 arm out toward Jeanne and Philip, " I will get per 
 mission to have you shot with the next batch ! " 
 Then he turned on his heel and followed the long 
 line of the condemned moving in single file toward 
 the prison court. 
 
 An hour later, Philip and Jeanne crept back to 
 their cells, and the Brigadier Remain facetiously 
 bade them good-night and good-bye, " for," he said, 
 " to-morrow the Governor will go to see Rigault 
 about you." 
 
 Light faded in the long corridor, the guards be 
 gan their monotonous tramp, tramp, tramp. Philip 
 pushed his miserable supper aside, and flung himself 
 face downwards on the stones. 
 
 Wilton s voice aroused him, and he stumbled to his 
 feet and went to the iron grating. " Philip," he gasped, 
 " send a guard for a priest. Tell him I am dying." 
 
 Landes obeyed, and, pressing his face to the 
 " judas," called out. 
 
 " What do you want? " replied the Brigadier Ro- 
 main, who was passing with a lantern and a bunch 
 of keys. 
 
 " The man in the next cell is dying, and asks for a 
 priest," said Philip ; " hurry ! " 
 
 " Fichtre ! " murmured Romain ; "the Governor 
 will catch it from Rigault." 
 
 "Hurry! You cannot deny him a priest!" re 
 peated Philip.
 
 452 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " No it is permitted," answered Romain ; " a 
 man has the right to go to hell in his own way," and 
 he unlocked a cell door a little way down the corn- 
 dor, and hustled the priest who occupied it into the 
 cell where Wilton lay, his head on Ynes knees. 
 " Give him a good send-off," said Remain, laughing 
 loudly. " A priest s recommendation goes a long 
 way with the devil." Philip beckoned Ynes, and 
 she came and leaned sobbing on the grating, while 
 the murmur of confession rose from the end of the 
 cell: 
 
 " Mon pere, je m accuse 
 
 "Oh, Philip, it is hard," whispered Ynes; "I 
 love him so truly, I would be a good woman if he 
 could live. I have been different ever since I loved 
 him." 
 
 "You have been working in the hospital?" 
 
 "Yes, and the field." 
 
 The murmur of confession went on. 
 
 " Are you married ? " asked Philip. 
 
 " No. Archie wishes we were now." 
 
 "Yes -it is better," said Philip. 
 
 " I I never thought it mattered when one loved," 
 sobbed Ynes. 
 
 "It does matter, Ynes," said Philip; " don t cry 
 so, there is another life after this. Don t you be 
 lieve it?" 
 
 " Yes, I do now. I understand that there must be 
 another life." 
 
 With Philip and Jeanne behind their bars as wit 
 nesses Ynes Falaise and Archie Wilton were joined 
 in wedlock. Then the priest knelt beside Ynes on
 
 THE LAST B A RRICA DE. 453 
 
 the stone floor, reciting the prayers for the dying, 
 and Ynes, holding the wounded man s head against 
 her breast, gave way to bitter weeping. 
 
 " Less noise there ! " shouted the guard, hammer 
 ing on the door with the butt of his rifle. At the 
 sound, Wilton sat up. 
 
 " What was that ? " he said. 
 
 " Nothing, Archie," sobbed Ynes. 
 
 For a moment there was silence, broken only by 
 the low murmur of the priest. Then Wilton lay 
 back, calling feebly on Landes. " Good-bye, 
 Philip." 
 
 " Good-bye, Archie, dear fellow," answered Philip. 
 Wilton sighed, turned his face to Ynes, and died 
 quietly in her arms. Romain came to the door, 
 opened it, and turned away, leaving Ynes crouched 
 beside her dead husband. 
 
 It was four o clock in the morning. Philip was 
 stretched on his board, staring at the ceiling, when 
 something came crashing into the street outside, and 
 burst with a loud explosion under his window. At 
 once the prison was in an uproar, but Romain hur 
 ried from cell to cell, cursing savagely, and threaten 
 ing to shoot any prisoner who did not keep silence. 
 
 "Que Dieu me damne ! " he cried, dropping his 
 mask of good nature, " if I hear another word I 11 
 let the mob in on you ! Keep quiet you cursed 
 priests, and you too, you cowardly Yankee ! " 
 
 An inspiration flashed upon Landes ; he ham 
 mered on his door and shouted : " the Versaillists are 
 in Paris ! Death to the Commune ! " A tremen 
 dous shout answered him.
 
 454 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " You lie ! " screamed Remain ; " if you open your 
 mouth again I 11 shut it forever ! " 
 
 "Try it!" cried Philip. 
 
 " Will you be silent ! " howled Romain, drawing 
 his revolver. 
 
 " No ! Down with the Commune ! " 
 
 Romain flew to the cell door, shoved his revolver 
 through the "judas," and fired. Landes dropped. 
 
 "Good!" yelled Romain, unlocking the door; 
 " I 11 make sure of you now ! " 
 
 As he flung the door open, Philip leaped at his 
 throat, twisted his wrist until it cracked, and drag 
 ging the revolver from his limp fist, fired it in his 
 face. Romain plunged face downward on the stones, 
 his keys ringing, the lantern rolling into the cell. It 
 was not extinguished, however, and Philip picked it 
 up, seized the keys from the dead man s belt, and 
 hurried into the corridor. 
 
 A dozen guards, rifle in hand, stood motionless by 
 the staircase, but Philip cried out to them to aid 
 him, for the Versailles troops were in Paris, and they 
 stood no chance unless they surrendered. 
 
 It may have been the overpowering impudence of 
 the request that held them back, but it was also true 
 that most of the armed guards had been recruited 
 among the former police and gendarmes of the Em 
 pire, and they had no stomach for their work or for 
 the Commune. Through terror of Francois and of 
 Romain, and also to save their skins from Raoul 
 Rigault, these former gendarmes had consented to 
 enter the prison service of the Commune. Now 
 that Romain was dead, and the Versailists were in
 
 THE LAST B A RRICA DE. 455 
 
 Paris, and especially now that somebody had taken 
 the initiative, they did not hesitate very long. 
 
 "Will you speak a good word for us, Citizen?" 
 asked one. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! Here, take these keys and let out 
 the prisoners on the other floors ! " cried Landes. 
 "The Commune will come for us and we Ve got to 
 intrench ourselves ! " 
 
 " Then give me the keys," said the man, " I 11 do 
 it if I am shot for it ! " and he hastened away toward 
 the upper corridors. 
 
 Somehow or other the news of the fate of the 
 seventy-five victims taken that morning had reached 
 the prison. The inconceivable horrors of the mas 
 sacre in the rue Plaxo, where the mob had flung 
 itself on the helpless prisoners and had literally 
 hacked them to death with knives, were recounted to 
 the smallest details by the friendly guards, and in a 
 moment the long corridor resounded with the ex 
 cited cries of the prisoners. 
 
 " Shall we go tamely to be butchered ? " shouted a 
 Turco of the Line ; " shall we go to the rue Haxo ? " 
 
 " Let us defend ourselves ! " cried the gendarmes, 
 lugging bedding, boards, and planks stripped from 
 the ceilings to make a barricade. They had no 
 weapons except the dozen or so rifles of the guards, 
 but a priest tore the iron bars and stanchions from 
 the benches, and his example was followed by the 
 rest. A Line soldier named Ziem took command of 
 the barricade, posting a dozen gendarmes, who car 
 ried rifles, in the centre, and asking those armed with 
 iron bars to lie close behind.
 
 456 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 Philip, his arm clasping Jeanne s, stood guard at 
 the long stairway which rose from the prison court. 
 Francois, the Governor, had escaped in the confu 
 sion, and the prisoners knew it would not be very 
 long before the battalions of the Commune swarmed 
 into the prison. 
 
 Francois, in his night-shirt, had fled at the first 
 sound of the insurrection, and half an hour later he 
 stood shivering before Raoul Rigault in the Luxem 
 bourg Palace. 
 
 " You re a traitor ! " yelled Rigault, beside himself 
 with fury. 
 
 " No, I m not," chattered Francois, " and if you 11 
 give me some clothes I 11 head a battalion to quell 
 the riot. It s only that they Ve heard of the affair 
 in the rue Haxo and have become desperate." 
 
 " Then you can get on your clothes and go back 
 and finish the lot of them," said Rigault ; " how 
 many are there ? Fifteen hundred ? Good ! Here 
 is an order to execute every one of them ! " And 
 he seized a stamped paper and wrote the order. 
 
 "And if they refuse " 
 
 " What s that ? Don t I give you a battalion ? " 
 
 " Yes, but suppose they resist." 
 
 "Then collect every criminal in the city prisons . 
 scour Belleville and the Faubourg St. Antoine until 
 you get a mob that can smell blood through the 
 walls of La Grande Roquette. I tell you to tear the 
 walls down, blow the prison up, anything, to get at 
 the prisoners. Do you think I Ve finished my list 
 yet ? What a fool I d look letting those priests 
 and gendarmes slip through my fingers. There s
 
 THE LA S T BARRICA DE. 457 
 
 an American there, too, whom I intended to strangle. 
 But there will be no time make sure of him first of 
 all. You d better do this job up quickly or you 11 
 have a bayonet in your back before you know it ! " 
 
 Francois took the order and followed an officer 
 into a room where he quickly clothed himself in the 
 uniform of a colonel. Rigault watched him sarcas 
 tically. 
 
 " What battalion am I to take ? " asked Francois. 
 
 "Any you can find," replied Rigault, " get out, 
 you fool ! " and he turned on his heel and walked 
 away toward the river. 
 
 It took Francois all day to collect his rabble, but 
 when they were assembled he could justly boast that 
 he commanded the vilest mob that ever howled for 
 blood. 
 
 They entered the court-yard of the Prison of the 
 Condemned and attemped to rush the stairway, but 
 the twelve rifles and Philip s revolver choked the 
 stairs with dead and dying and the mob fell back 
 disconcerted. Then they tried diplomacy and sent 
 a white flag up the stairway with solemn promises 
 of safe conduct. The prisoners consulted. A dozen 
 priests and citizens who believed that the barricade 
 could not hold out, and if it did, starvation would 
 drive the defenders to make terms, left the barricade 
 bearing a white flag, and entered the court-yard of 
 the prison. 
 
 " You promise us safe conduct?" they repeated. 
 
 " It is a sacred promise," answered Jean Verig, 
 opening the gate into the street. 
 
 One by one the prisoners stepped through the
 
 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 narrow wicket, and each, as he disappeared, was 
 seized and silently butchered by the mob. So noise 
 lessly was this done that had it not been for one of 
 the mob who fired at the last priest to leave the 
 court-yard, the defenders of the barricade might have 
 believed that the way to safety was open. It did 
 not comfort Francois very much to smash the skull 
 of the ruffian who had fired contrary to orders, 
 for now the prisoners were alert, and Francois 
 knew they would die behind their barricade rather 
 than trust to promises. So he threw off the mask 
 and incited his mob to the attack. Three times the 
 howling rabble surged into the prison court-yard and 
 charged up the stairs, and every time they fled in a 
 panic, leaving scores of dead and wounded behind 
 them, while the defenders of the barricade cheered 
 and shouted defiance. Hand to hand the brave 
 priests met the onslaught, and their bars of iron 
 played havoc with the skulls of the mob. Enthu 
 siasm animated the disheartened Line soldiers and 
 the gendarmes, and they sprang at the mob with no 
 weapons but clubs and bits of pointed stone. Twice 
 the Federals succeeded in setting fire to the barricade, 
 but Jeanne and Ynes were ready with basins of 
 water and the fire was quickly extinguished. 
 
 Night fell, and under cover of the darkness, 
 Francois himself led his cutthroats to the foot of 
 the stairway and directed the placing of inflammable 
 material. A cask of crude petroleum was rolled 
 under the arcade and a dozen loaded shells piled 
 around it. Twice the desperate prisoners succeeded 
 in dampening the powder train, but at last a blazing
 
 THE LAST BA KRICA DE. 459 
 
 torch was flung into the petroleum and a frightful 
 explosion shook the arcade. Great masses of stone 
 tottered and dropped into the court, and the wooden 
 ceiling of the arcade blazed and crackled, but the 
 massive prison was not injured, and the fire in the 
 arcade burnt itself out against the stones. 
 
 It was the last attempt that the mob made that 
 night. The garrison of the barricade posted sen 
 tinels at the head of the stairs, changing them every 
 two hours. Philip dragged a mattress into his cell 
 for Jeanne, insisting that she should sleep. 
 
 " I will try," she said, dropping wearily on the 
 couch, " but I cannot sleep if you are going back to 
 the barricade." 
 
 "No, I am not going there," he said, "I shall be 
 very near you." 
 
 " Then you are going to sit up with with " 
 
 "Yes, with my friend Wilton; I can t leave his 
 wife alone there. Try to sleep, Jeanne." 
 
 " I will try. Good-night, dear Philip." She 
 raised one little hand and he bent and kissed it. 
 
 " How cold your fingers are," he said, " are you 
 ill?" 
 
 " No, only tired." 
 
 He looked at her anxiously, sighed, and turned 
 away, saying : " I shall be in the next cell ; call me if 
 you are feeling ill." 
 
 Ynes, beside the body of her husband, looked up 
 as he entered, but he silently placed himself at the 
 foot of the couch, and she bent her head again 
 without speaking. 
 
 So they sat, watching beside the dead until in the
 
 4^0 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 gray of the morning a rifle cracked, and the barricade 
 swarmed in an instant. 
 
 " They re coming again," he said, " I must go 
 back to the others. Would you care to have me 
 send a priest ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Then try to eat something. See, here is a bit of 
 bread and a cup of wine which I saved from my 
 dinner. You must try to eat." 
 
 " I cannot eat," she said. 
 
 "You must. No one knows how long we may be 
 kept here, and there is no food left in the prison." 
 
 He placed the bread and wine on the stones beside 
 her and turned away into the next cell, where Jeanne 
 still lay. 
 
 " Have you slept?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes. The shot woke me. I lay very still, for I 
 heard your voice in the next cell." 
 
 Philip sat down beside her and took her hand. 
 It was burning. " You have a little fever," he said ; 
 " you must lie quite still. Here is your breakfast." 
 He took a roll from his pocket and laid it on the 
 bed. 
 
 " I am not hungry," she murmured, " but I am 
 very thirsty." 
 
 He brought her a cup of red wine and water, and 
 at his urging she swallowed some bits of bread 
 soaked in it. Then he took off his jacket, rolled it up, 
 and placed it under her head. " Do not leave the 
 cell while they are firing," he said ; " I will come 
 back every hour and see you." He walked to the 
 door, hesitated, and turned around.
 
 THE LAST BARRICADE. 461 
 
 She looked at him listlessly. Her eyes were very 
 bright and feverish, and the color in her face burned 
 scarlet. She lay there, her hands clasped to her 
 throat, her uniform torn, and soiled with prison 
 grime. Both her spurs had been snapped off short 
 above the boot heels, the riding breeches were dusty 
 and faded, and her clustering hair fell over her eyes, 
 now wide open and shining like stars. 
 
 " Jeanne," he said, carelessly, " if anything hap 
 pens so that you are left alone, do whatever Father 
 Launay tells you. Trust him in everything." 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I will do 
 
 Crack ! Bang ! rang the rifles from the barri 
 cade, followed by a cry of warning: "Attention! 
 Look out for that grenade ! Down on your faces ! " 
 Philip sprang to the door of the cell. 
 
 " Go back ! Look out for the grenade ! " they 
 cried to him from the barricade, and at the same 
 moment he saw a round black ball come rolling 
 toward him over the stone floor. He stared stupidly 
 at the sputtering fuse, scarcely understanding, then, 
 as he stepped back, there came a blinding flash of 
 light, a stunning report, and a cry from the next 
 cell. They heard that cry at the barricade, and a 
 soldier came hurrying across the corridor just as 
 Philip hastened into the cell. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the soldier, " a woman ! " 
 
 Philip stood looking down at the limp figure, flung 
 half across the body of Wilton. 
 
 " Struck in the head see there," said the soldier; 
 "the grenade was full of bullets and scrap iron." 
 
 " It must have rolled almost into her cell, I was
 
 462 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 standing in the next cell, I never thought she was 
 in danger," said Philip. Then he turned away and 
 crossed to the barricade, where two of its defenders 
 lay wounded from flying fragments. And as he 
 entered, the bullets began whistling into the corridor 
 from the arcade and outer walls, and the hoarse cry 
 of the mob : " Turn the cannon on them ! Death to 
 the prisoners ! " was taken up by a new contingent, 
 which had just arrived with two cannon and a mor 
 tar from the Mairie du Prince Eugene. 
 
 " Cannon ! " cried Philip, aghast. 
 
 " That settles it, we are done for ! " said a gen 
 darme, bitterly, and sat down with his face in his 
 hands. 
 
 Philip looked fearfully around. Most of the sol 
 diers stood with folded arms, doggedly awaiting 
 their fate, and the priests were praying, some on 
 their knees, quietly, some standing, stern and rigid, 
 with eyes fixed, and drawn lips scarcely moving. 
 Then he went to Jeanne, and found her, trembling 
 and shivering, on the couch. 
 
 " My darling," he whispered, " I am afraid that 
 we must give up. Put your arms around my neck, 
 so are you ready to die with me, Jeanne?" 
 
 " Yes with you." 
 
 He drew his revolver, loaded it, and laid it at his 
 feet. Then he kissed Jeanne on the mouth. 
 
 "When the rush comes I have two bullets for 
 us, it is better." 
 
 " It is better," she repeated calmly. 
 
 " And if if I am hit," he said, " before I can fire,
 
 THE LAST B A RRICA DE. 463 
 
 . take the revolver, hold it so close to your tem 
 ple ; it is better that way than to die in the rue 
 Haxo ! " 
 
 "Yes, Philip." 
 
 A dreadful tumult arose outside, shouts, yells, 
 shot on shot, and the hiss and explosion of falling 
 shells mingled with the crash of volley firing and 
 the patter of a mitrailleuse. From the prison court 
 came voices raised in frantic appeal, the click ! clash ! 
 click ! of bayonets, and then horrid screams. There 
 was a rush and trample of feet on the stairs, a flash 
 of steel. 
 
 " Are you ready, Jeanne ? " said Philip " kiss me 
 good-bye 
 
 "Good-bye," she murmured. 
 
 He cocked his revolver, hesitated, and turned one 
 furious glance toward the stairs. A figure was as 
 cending from the court below, not hastily either, but 
 silently and alone, and Philip saw with a start that 
 he wore the uniform of the Line. Before he could 
 realize what had happened, a wild shout broke from 
 the barricade: "The Line! the Line!" and the 
 prisoners rushed out from behind their defences and 
 flung themselves down the stairs to the prison court 
 yard, where the drums of the marine infantry were 
 rolling, and the bugles sang a joyous chorus. 
 
 " Thiers army is outside ! Here come the ma 
 rines ! " cried the frantic prisoners. 
 
 " Here they come! " shouted their Colonel, Bias, 
 bounding up the stairs, " and the mob are falling 
 like leaves in Pere Lachaise ! "
 
 464 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 A tall, young artillery captain who stood beside 
 him turned and looked straight at Landes. 
 
 " Alain ! " stammered Philip ; " Jeanne, the army 
 is here do you understand, my darling? " 
 
 "Yes," sighed Jeanne, and fainted away in his 
 arms.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE BLACKBIRD. 
 
 ONE sunny afternoon in September, Jack Ellice 
 sat on the edge of the stone fountain in the 
 studio garden and watched the two goldfish 
 aimlessly drifting among the water weeds. Insects had 
 been plenty that summer, and when Ellice thought 
 fully captured a giddy gnat and dropped it on the 
 water, the goldfish merely stared at him, and sank 
 to the bottom in the insulting way they had. 
 
 Toodles, now grown into a beautiful silky setter, 
 watched the proceeding with all the interest of his 
 puppy days. 
 
 " Cynical, are n t they, Toodles," said Ellice, as 
 the two fish turned their backs and coldly waved 
 their tails. 
 
 Toodles cocked his ears and looked at Ellice. 
 
 " Not like you," said Jack, giving the dog a hug; 
 " do you want to go in and swim ? " 
 
 Philip had forbidden Toodles the use of the 
 fountain for bathing purposes, fearing it might in 
 jure the goldfish. Ellice knew this, and Toodles 
 knew it also. They looked at each other with per 
 fect intelligence. 
 
 "Shall I go?" was the expression in Toodles 
 eyes. 
 
 " Go," nodded Ellice. 
 
 465
 
 466 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 There was a flash, a splash, and Philip, looking up 
 from the chess-table under the almond trees, cried : 
 " Toodles ! come out of that this minute ! " Toodles 
 emerged, dripping and cheerful. 
 
 " Oh, I know you put him up to it," said Philip, 
 glancing across at Ellice ; then turning to Alain de 
 Carette, "Alain, it s your move, you know." 
 
 " I know," replied Alain, smiling at Ellice. Then 
 he turned to the chess-board, saying : " I wonder, 
 Philip, why you don t push Jack in when he does 
 that." 
 
 " I will if he does it again, here ! get out, Too 
 dles ! don t shake yourself over me ! Really, Jack, 
 you ought to find some other amusement for your 
 declining years." 
 
 " You may play with my sword," suggested Alain, 
 moving his King behind a white Bishop to avoid de 
 struction ; " it s bright and shiny, and rattles too." 
 
 " Just because you wear a braided dolman and 
 red stripes on your legs " began Ellice, when he 
 was interrupted by a squall from Tcherka, who had 
 marched up behind him, and now sat staring at him 
 with enormous emerald eyes. 
 
 " She wants her milk," observed Philip, " for Heav 
 en s sake get it, Jack, or she 11 raise the roof, hold 
 up a second, Alain, did you mean that last move ? " 
 
 " Of course," replied Alain, calmly. 
 
 " Then it s check and mate in two moves." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Why, here, check to your King, that forces 
 you to interpose. Now I double my Castles, so, 
 and you re mated in the next whatever you do."
 
 THE RETURN OF THE BLACKBIRD. 467 
 
 41 But I move my Pawn into your King row " 
 
 " All right, mate ! " 
 
 " But you can t, for my new Queen holds your 
 King in check ! " 
 
 " Heavens ! How could I have overlooked that ! " 
 mused Philip ; " it s the racket that Toodles and 
 Jack make, I can t think! Just listen to that cat! 
 Stop teasing her, Jack, and give her the milk, or I 11 
 duck you ! " 
 
 " Let s wait until Monsieur Ellice and his circus 
 have finished the matinee," suggested Alain, leaning 
 back in his chair and lighting a cigar. 
 
 " All right," said Ellice, cheerfully, " here comes 
 the clown now." 
 
 Jacques Jean Marie Louis Joseph Bottier, uncon 
 scious of this announcement, entered the garden 
 with a tray on which were balanced three slender 
 glasses. 
 
 " Bet he breaks one ! " said Ellice in English. 
 
 " Take you," replied Alain, in the same language 
 " steady there, mon enfant, steady oh, the devil ! " 
 as a glass fell on the gravel and shivered to splinters. 
 
 " Get a dust-pan and a broom," said Philip, with 
 out any annoyance, " and if I have another whole 
 glass in the house, bring it in a basket." 
 
 Jacques Jean Marie Louis Joseph Bottier grinned. 
 He was used to this duty, and considered the whole 
 performance an exquisite piece of pleasantry. 
 
 " Bien, Monsieur Landes," he said, and retired to 
 be withered by Joseph s sarcasm. 
 
 " Imbecile ! " snorted Joseph, " go and get that 
 dust-pan ! Do you think Monsieur Landes owns a
 
 468 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 glass factory ? Give me the glass and the bitters and 
 the coquetelle, et puis file ! espece de cornichon ! " 
 Thus did Joseph exercise sovereignty over Bottier, 
 and Bottier respected and feared him. 
 
 When the cocktails were brought, and a silver 
 pitcher of mint juleps added as reserve, Ellice came 
 and sat down to watch the game of chess, saying 
 that the opera was over and he was ready to watch 
 the circus. Alain clicked his spurred heels together 
 and stared at the chess-board. Philip lighted a 
 cigarette. 
 
 " How long is Alain s leave ? " asked Ellice. 
 
 " Thirty days with privilege of here ! don t jog 
 gle the table, Jack ! " 
 
 " I m not. How the deuce did the General give 
 him thirty days ? He has n t done anything." 
 
 " No, nothing except to get the Legion of 
 Honor." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Alain ; " you fellows deserve it 
 more than I do " 
 
 " / .do," said Ellice, amiably ; " by the way, is it 
 true that Rigault is dead ? " 
 
 " Why, of course. Alain saw them finishing him, 
 did n t you, Alain?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I saw it," said Alain, pushing his white 
 Bishop forward two squares. 
 
 " Was he shot ? " 
 
 Alain leaned back in his chair and struck a match 
 to relight his cigar. 
 
 " Yes. I was coming along by the Luxembourg, 
 just opposite the rue Gay Lussac. A man was run 
 ning with a mob in full chase, and I pitied the fellow
 
 THE RETURN OF THE BLACKBIRD. 469 
 
 and er kept them off until they told me who he 
 was." 
 
 "And after?" 
 
 " Oh, I tried to persuade them to let the court- 
 martial do the rest but you know what a mob is ! 
 They tore him to bits and then shot what was left." 
 
 " Did did he die game ? " enquired Cilice. 
 
 " Probably not," said Philip, picking up his black 
 Knight. 
 
 " On the contrary," said Alain, " he died like a 
 mad wolf, foaming and snapping and ugh ! I can 
 hear his yell even yet ! " 
 
 " What did he yell ? " persisted Ellice, devoured 
 by curiosity. 
 
 " Vive la Commune ! You Ve heard it before, I 
 imagine," said Alain, with a faint smile. " Give me 
 that pitcher of juleps, if you please, my son." 
 
 " Here you are. Is it true that Weser escaped 
 after all ? " 
 
 " There seems to be no doubt of it," interposed 
 Philip. " He has been located in Hester Street, 
 New York. They can t extradite him either. Alain, 
 I don t see how I m going to get out of this hole 
 here. I stand to lose either my Knight or those 
 two Pawns." 
 
 " So it appears," smiled Alain, quaffing his julep 
 and looking at the board through the glass. " What 
 time is it, Jack? " 
 
 Ellice opened his watch. " By Jove, it s nearly 
 three o clock ! " he exclaimed. " I m going into the 
 studio to see if things are in order." 
 
 " My wife may be late," said Alain, with a scarcely
 
 470 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 perceptible smile, " she is going to call first on 
 some friends of ours who have just arrived from 
 Chartres." 
 
 " Chartres ? " asked Philip, looking up from the 
 board. 
 
 " Yes. By the way, how long since you heard 
 from Mademoiselle de Brassac ? " 
 
 "A month." 
 
 " Then you have not heard since she left for 
 Switzerland ? " 
 
 " No yes, indirectly from her guardian " 
 
 " My cousin, de St. Gildas? " 
 
 " Yes. He has not permitted her to write. He 
 has his reasons, they re good too. I suppose he 
 will never approve of me." 
 
 "How do you know?" asked Alain. 
 
 " Oh, the whole affair has taken a turn for the 
 worse. Now that Mademoiselle de Brassac has re 
 covered from the shock of of those days and has 
 been for months among her own people, she will 
 begin to look at things in a proper light. I suppose 
 also she will try to forget." 
 
 "Forget what?" 
 
 Philip ostentatiously moved an important Pawn 
 and looked at Alain. 
 
 " Forget what ? " repeated de Carette. 
 
 " Oh, everything all the horrors that she and I 
 went through." 
 
 Alain advanced his white Knight and captured the 
 unfortunate Pawn. "You re playing carelessly, 
 Philip. Why should she wish to forget you ? " 
 
 Philip stared at the board.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE BLACKBIRD. 471 
 
 " By the way," continued Alain, " I suppose that 
 the Abbe Lagarde has deposited the de Brassac dia 
 monds in the Bank of France." 
 
 "Yes, the Abbe wrote me. How fortunate that 
 the poor Archbishop should have sent him on that 
 mission to Versailles-! They are criticising him now 
 for not returning, and the Communistic journals 
 charged him with breaking his parole, but the Arch 
 bishop wished him to remain and plead with Thiers 
 and he was quite right to stay. Don t you think 
 so ? " 
 
 " Of course. He could do more good there than 
 if he had returned to Mazas before his mission was 
 ended. I am glad he thought to sew the diamonds 
 into his soutane. Mademoiselle de Brassac is an 
 heiress now." 
 
 " Yes," said Philip, trying to smile. 
 
 " And it s your move," began Alain, when a ring 
 at the lodge gate interrupted him. He rose quietly 
 and smiled at Philip. 
 
 "It s your move," he repeated "on this game 
 before us and in the game of life. Move boldly and 
 fear nothing, mon ami, Philip. I think that is my 
 wife, here she is now." 
 
 Philip hastened down the path and bent low over 
 the slender gloved hand which Marguerite, Countess 
 de Carette, graciously extended. 
 
 " Alain," she said, laughing, " is n t it delightful, 
 this studio garden? Did I not tell you? Thank 
 you, I prefer to sit on this dear little fountain, 
 where, Monsieur de Carette, I have often sat be 
 fore "
 
 472 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " With Jack Ellice," said Alain ; " I am very jeal 
 ous and hello ! where has Philip gone?" 
 
 " You goose ! " whispered Marguerite, " why 
 don t you let them alone ? Turn your back, as 
 I do." 
 
 Jeanne de Brassac stood under the almond trees 
 that she knew so well, and now Philip was beside 
 her and was bending over her. 
 
 " I did not know," he stammered ; " Madame de 
 Carette did not tell me. I thought you were in 
 Zurich " 
 
 " How should you know ? " she said, with a 
 happy light in her eyes ; " I did not know it myself 
 until Madame de St. Gildas told me that we were 
 going to Paris." Then looking around : " Oh, the 
 dear old garden ! and the fountain and the almond 
 trees ! I met Joseph in the court and I shook both 
 his hands very hard, and I also smiled at Jacques 
 Jean Marie Louis Joseph Bottler, and I wish to 
 hug Tcherka and Toodles at once." 
 
 She walked swiftly over to the chess-table and sat 
 down under the almond trees. 
 
 " Sit there, opposite," she said, " and tell me 
 everything. Oh, Monsieur Ellice! " 
 
 Jack came up radiant, and seemed disposed to 
 stay, but Marguerite got him away, and between her 
 and Alain he found no time to intrude on Philip and 
 Jeanne. 
 
 " Alain has seen the studio ? " she asked, with a 
 charming smile. 
 
 " Oh, he s seen it," said Ellice, but Alain took 
 his cue, and insisted on seeing it again.
 
 THE RETURN OF THE BLACKBIRD. 4/3 
 
 " We are going to drink a cup of tea in the studio," 
 said Marguerite to Jeanne. 
 
 The sunlight fell across the gravel, gilding the 
 pebbles and searching the depths of the brown water 
 in the fountain. Tcherka was polishing her claws 
 on the lilac trees, and Toodles, who had unearthed 
 an ancient bone, dry and toothless as an Egyptian 
 mummy, sprawled at full length on the gravel, gnaw 
 ing and cracking it as if he were dying of starva 
 tion. 
 
 " Make him stop, Philip," said Jeanne, uncon^ 
 sciously falling into the familiar tone of the past. 
 
 "Toodles ! " cried Philip. 
 
 The dog thumped his silky tail on the gravel. 
 
 " He won t oh, let him have his bone," laughed 
 Jeanne, capriciously. " Is the blackbird here yet, 
 Philip ? " 
 
 " Yes. He s out in the Luxembourg Gardens a 
 good deal, but he always comes back. There is 
 Monsieur Prudhomme too." 
 
 " That toad ! But I am even glad to see him." 
 Monsieur Prudhomme hopped stolidly into the hole 
 under the wall, and Toodles raced after him, too 
 late. 
 
 " He s gone, Toodles," said Philip, kicking the 
 bone into a clump of grass. Then he went back to 
 Jeanne. " I have not even asked you how you are," 
 he said, with a little return of his constraint. 
 
 "Why, I am well, of course. And you, Philip? 
 Are you happy ? " 
 
 " Well, thank you, and happy." She noticed 
 the stiffness of his manner.
 
 474 THE RED REPUBLIC. 
 
 " Here is a chess-board," she said, " I did not know 
 you played." 
 
 " I was playing with Captain de Carette," he said, 
 looking vacantly at the pieces. 
 
 " But which were yours ? Come, I will finish the 
 game with you if you wish. Do you care to ? " 
 
 "Yes," he smiled, "these are mine, the black. It 
 is your move." 
 
 " Very well, check ! to you, Monsieur." 
 
 " You play too rapidly ; check ! in turn to you, 
 Mademoiselle! " 
 
 Jeanne leaned back in her chair, examining the 
 board with grave attention. Once she bent to pick 
 up a piece which had rolled to the edge of the board, 
 and her white hand, resting so easily on the arm of 
 the chair, brought back to Philip the picture of the 
 past, that Christmas, Victor, the blue-eyed child, 
 standing so quietly in the firelight, her slender hand 
 on her mother s arm. 
 
 "Check! to your Queen, Philip," said Jeanne. 
 Then raising her eyes : " Why do you look at me so 
 strangely ?" 
 
 " Checkmate ! Jeanne." 
 
 " Mated already ! Oh, Philip ! " 
 
 " Mated," he repeated. " Listen, Jeanne, I had no 
 mercy." 
 
 She raised her eyes again, and looked at him long 
 and silently. 
 
 " What does Monsieur de St. Gildas say ? " asked 
 Philip, meeting her gaze steadily. 
 
 She did not pretend to misunderstand him. " He 
 says what I say," she replied. Then the soft color
 
 THE RETURN OF THE BLACKBIRD. 475 
 
 spread over her neck and temple. Her lips trembled 
 
 imperceptibly. 
 
 " And what do you say, Jeanne ? " 
 
 She held both her arms out toward him. 
 
 " Philip, can you ask? " 
 
 ****** 
 
 There was a flash of wings in the branches of the 
 almond tree, a flutter and rustle among the leaves, 
 then the blackbird uttered a low, sweet note. 
 
 THE END.
 
 A 000 806 472 7