Jean’s face was the picture of surprise.  “How, join you?  I don’t understand.”  Then for a moment he listened while Maurice railed against the government, against the army, raking up old sores and recalling all their sufferings, telling how at last they were going to be masters, punish dolts and cowards and preserve the Republic.  And as he struggled to get the problems the other laid before him through his brain, the tranquil face of the unlettered peasant was clouded with an increasing sorrow.  “Ah, no! ah, no! my boy.  I can’t join you if it’s for that fine work you want me.  My captain told me to go with my men to Vaugirard, and there I’m going.  In spite of the devil and his angels I will go there.  That’s natural enough; you ought to know how it is yourself.”  He laughed with frank simplicity and added: 

“It’s you who’ll come along with us.”

But Maurice released his hands with an angry gesture of dissent, and thus they stood for some seconds, face to face, one under the influence of that madness that was sweeping all Paris off its feet, the malady that had been bequeathed to them by the crimes and follies of the late reign, the other strong in his ignorance and practical common sense, untainted as yet because he had grown up apart from the contaminating principle, in the land where industry and thrift were honored.  They were brothers, however, none the less; the tie that united them was strong, and it was a pang to them both when the crowd suddenly surged forward and parted them.

“Au revoir, Maurice!”

“Au revoir, Jean!”

It was a regiment, the 79th, debouching from a side street, that had caused the movement among the crowd, forcing the rioters back to the sidewalks by the weight of its compact column, closed in mass.  There was some hooting, but no one ventured to bar the way against the soldier boys, who went by at double time, well under control of their officers.  An opportunity was afforded the little squad of the 124th to make their escape, and they followed in the wake of the larger body.

“Au revoir, Jean!”

“Au revoir, Maurice!”

They waved their hands once more in a parting salute, yielding to the fatality that decreed their separation in that manner, but each none the less securely seated in the other’s heart.

The extraordinary occurrences of the next and the succeeding days crowded on the heels of one another in such swift sequence that Maurice had scarcely time to think.  On the morning of the 19th Paris awoke without a government, more surprised than frightened to learn that a panic during the night had sent army, ministers, and all the public service scurrying away to Versailles, and as the weather happened to be fine on that magnificent March Sunday, Paris stepped unconcernedly down into the streets to have a look at the barricades.  A great white poster, bearing the signature of the Central Committee and convoking the people for the