out to be closed for the night, we hear the tramp of soldiers and the
jingle of sword-scabbards in the ground-floor corridor. It is a
detachment of soldiers, accompanied by their officers and Captain W----,
who have come to fetch away two of our comrades in order to escort them
to the military prison. Young and vigorous, these two prisoners fought
fiercely before they were overpowered and chained, and as the Commandant
of the fortress, impatient at the duration of the struggle, took part in
it, he was roughly handled. Blows struck at a superior officer
constitute a crime for which the offenders are to be tried by
court-martial. They know it, and we know it. But this haste on the part
of the Commandant to have them in his hands--this order to transfer them
at night--which is given by the Director in a trembling voice--is it a
provocation or a folly? The outer court-yard is gradually and silently
filling with moving shadows. Rifles, of which the barrels glitter in the
starlight, are pointed towards our windows. This mute menace of a
massacre in the darkness finds us indifferent, and not one of us leaves
his or her place at the window. But some are ill, and all wounded and
tired out by the emotions and struggles of the day, and having been
without food for over twenty-six hours; and can we revolt again? As
regards the court-martial, none fear, and all would be willing to be
tried by it. Its verdicts are pitiless, terrible; but they are verdicts,
and it is an end. To-morrow, one after the other, we shall go to the
Director's cabinet, and there sign a declaration of our entire
solidarity with those who are now being taken away, and that
declaration, every word of which will be an insult thrown in the face of
the Government, will terminate by a demand for trial by court-martial,
not only of ourselves, but also of the Commandant of the fortress. This
demand, as usual, will be supported by famine, by the absolute refusal
of all prisoners to take any nourishment whatsoever, a process which
kills the prisoners, but before which the Government, anxious to avoid
the disastrous impression which these numerous deaths produce, yields,
at least in appearance. Whilst we wait all is darkness, for the warders
have not lit the little lamps. Through the disordered cells run strange
murmurs, and passions are again aroused; while below, those who are
being taken away make hasty preparations for their short journey.

I do not know them. We are