ps sang. They sang the "Marseillaise," and at each chorus
they stopped and raised their torches, crying, "To arms!" Some young men
waved drawn swords. The torches shed a lurid light on the pallid
foreheads of the corpses and on the livid faces of the crowd. A shudder
ran through the people. It appeared as though they again saw the terrible
vision of February, 1848.

This gloomy procession came from the Rue Aumaire. About eight o'clock
some thirty workmen gathered together from the neighborhood of the
markets, the same who on the next day raised the barricade of the
Guerin-Boisseau, reached the Rue Aumaire by the Rue de Petit Lion, the
Rue Neuve-Bourg-l'Abbe, and the Carre St. Martin. They came to fight,
but here the combat was at an end. The infantry had withdrawn after
having pulled down the barricades. Two corpses, an old man of seventy
and a young man of five-and-twenty, lay at the corner of the street on
the ground, with uncovered faces, their bodies in a pool of blood, their
heads on the pavement where they had fallen. Both were dressed in
overcoats, and seemed to belong to the middle class. The old man had his
hat by his side; he was a venerable figure with a white beard, white
hair, and a calm expression. A ball had pierced his skull.

The young man's breast was pierced with buck-shot. One was the father,
the other the son. The son, seeing his father fall, had said, "I also
will die." Both were lying side by side.

Opposite the gateway of the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers there was
a house in course of building. They fetched two planks from it, they
laid the corpses on the planks, the crowd raised them upon their
shoulders, they brought torches, and they began their march. In the Rue
St. Denis a man in a white blouse barred the way. "Where are you going?"
said he to them. "You will bring about disasters! You are helping the
'Twenty-five francs!'" "Down with the police! Down with the white
blouse!" shouted the crowd. The man slunk away.

The mob swelled on its road; the crowd opened out and repeated the
"Marseillaise" in chorus, but with the exception of a few swords no one
was armed. On the boulevard the emotion was intense. Women clasped their
hands in pity. Workmen were heard to exclaim, "And to think that we have
no arms!"

The procession, after having for some time followed the Boulevards,
re-entered the streets, followed by a deeply-affected and angry
multitude. In this manner it reached the Rue de