e knew to whom the furniture
belonged, some curious speculators avowing that Plon had a child--a
girl--at school in Normandy, and had collected it as part of her dowry;
others that some mysterious tie of gratitude bound him to the owner.
Whoever was right or wrong, the rooms remained closed and unlet.

The garret itself was inhabited by a young widow, whose story was
sufficiently sad. She was the daughter of a farmer in the north of
France, and married to a glazier, Jean Didier by name, with whom she had
come to Paris in search of work. If there had been no war, and, above
all, no Commune, things might have gone well with the young couple, but,
unhappily, one followed the other, and there was an end of peace. Jean
was no fool, but he was too certain that he was extremely wise not to
make mistakes, and he possessed enough of the French nature to be easily
influenced by the brag and fine promises which filled the air at that
time. It is always satisfactory to reflect on changes which assure us
the highest step of a ladder, which ordinarily takes a life-time for a
step. Jean talked a great deal about it, not only to Marie, who would
have been safe, but to others who agreed with him more thoroughly, and
were dangerous. Nevertheless, when the Commune, in March, 1871, broke
into actual life, and Jean began to see what it all meant, he was
terrified by the outburst and held back. Things which look seductive in
theory, have a way of losing their gloss when they appear as hard
realities, with accompaniments which do not belong to the ideals; and
the rabble rout of half-drunk citizens who marched, shouting, through
the streets of the 19th _arrondissement_, frightened Marie out of her
senses. She clung to Jean, and implored him not to join them on pain of
breaking her heart. To do him justice, common sense, perhaps aided by a
desire to keep out of the way of rifle-balls, was proving stronger than
bombast; and, to do him justice again, he was desirous to keep others
than himself from danger.

It was this which brought about the catastrophe. May came, and with it
the conquering troops from Versailles poured into the city. It was
sufficiently clear what the end would be; Jean, who never distrusted his
own reasoning powers, insisted, in spite of his wife's prayers and
Plon's expostulations, in going out into the streets, and trying to
dissuade some of his comrades from fighting. He promised to return
immediately, but he did not come,