Every execution of a prisoner of war, or of a member of the
regular Government of the Commune of Paris, will be at once followed by
the execution of a triple number of hostages, retained by virtue of
article 4, who will be chosen by lot.

"Art. 6. All prisoners of war will be summoned before the 'jury of
accusation,' who will decide whether they be immediately set at liberty
or retained as hostages."]

XXXI.

Flourens is dead: we heard that last night for certain. A National Guard
had previously brought back the colonel's horse from Bougival, but it
was only a few hours ago that we heard any details. An attempt was made
to take him prisoner at Rueil. A gendarme called out to him to
surrender, he replied by a pistol shot; another gendarme advanced, and
wounded him in the side, a third cleft his skull with a sabre out. Some
people do not believe in the pistol shot, and talk of assassination. How
many such events are there, the truth of which will never be clearly
proved! One thing certain is, that Flourens is dead. His body was
recognised at Versailles by some one in the service of Garnier freres.
His mother started this morning to fetch the corpse of her son. It is
strange that one is so painfully affected by the violent death of this
man. He has been mixed up in all the revolutionary attempts of the last
few years, and ought to be particularly obnoxious to all peaceful and
order-loving citizens; but the truth is, his was a sincerely ardent and
enthusiastic spirit. He was a thorough believer in the principles he
maintained. Whatever may be the religion he professes, the apostle
inspires esteem, and the martyr compassion. This apostle, this martyr,
was born to affluence; son of an illustrious savant, he may be almost
said to have been born to hereditary distinction. He was still quite
young when he threw himself heart and soul into politics. There was
fighting in Crete, and so off he went. There he revolted against the
revolt itself, got imprisoned, escaped, outwitted the gendarmes, got
retaken: his adventures sound like a legend or romance. It is because he
was so romantic, that he is so interesting. He returned to France full
of generous impulses. He was as prodigal of his money as he had been of
his blood. In the bitter cold winters he fed and clothed the poor of
Belleville, going from attic to attic with money and consolation. You
remember what Victor Hugo says of the sublime Pauline Roland. The spirit
of F