no firing party in attendance.  He then took to his heels, but was pursued, captured, and put to death.  I began to feel rather bewildered, and some one urged me to return to the prison, which I did.  A young linesman was then brought in.  He was quite a young fellow, barely twenty; his hands were tied behind his back.  They decided to kill him within the prison.  They set upon him, beat him, tore his clothes, so that he had hardly a shred of covering left; they made him kneel, then made him stand up, blindfolded him then uncovered his eyes; finally they put an end to his long agony by shooting him, and flung the body into a costermonger’s cart close to the gate.  Several priests had got out of the prison of La Roquette.  The Abbe Surat, on passing over a barricade, was so imprudent as to state who he was, and showed some articles of value he had about him.  He had got as far as about the middle of the Boulevard du Prince Eugene, when he was arrested and taken back to the prison, where they prepared to shoot him.  But the young woman whom I have before mentioned, with a revolver in one hand and a dagger in the other, rushed at him exclaiming, ’I must have the honour of giving him the first blow.’  The abbe instinctively put his hands out to protect himself, crying, ‘Grace! grace!’ Whereon this fury shouted, ’Grace! grace! en voila un maigre,’ and she discharged her revolver at him.  His body was not searched, but his shoes were removed.  Afterwards his pastoral cross and 300 francs were found about him.  The boys detained in the prison were set at liberty.  The smaller ones were made to carry pails of petroleum, the others had muskets given them, and were sent to fight.  Six of them were killed; the remainder came back that night, and on the following day.  About a hundred boys were taken to Belleville by a member of the Commune, quite a young man; they were wanted to make sand-bags, to be filled with earth to form barricades.”

XII. (Page 345.)

Regarding the death of President Bonjean, the Abbe de Marsay said—­“That gentleman carried his scruples so far that he would not avail himself of forty-eight hours’ leave on parole, fearing he could not get back in time; thus did not see his family.”

The Abbe Perni, a venerable man with a white beard, who had been a missionary said: 

“On Wednesday, the 24th of May, we were ordered back to our cells at La Roquette at an earlier hour than usual, and at about four o’clock in the afternoon a battalion of federates noisily occupied the passage into which our cells opened.  They spoke at the topmost pitch of their voices.  One of them said, ’We must get rid of these Versailles banditti.’  Another replied, ’Yes; let us bowl them over, put them to bed.’  I understood what this meant, and prepared for death.  Soon after the door next mine was opened, and I heard a man asking if M. Darboy was there.  The prisoner replied in the