Rochefort does, but I am obliged to confess that I have not the least
idea, unless indeed M. Lullier means by "machinations" the order that
was given him to bring Mont Valerien in his waistcoat pocket.
"Imprisoned without motive," he continues, "by order of the Central
Committee, I was thrown ..." (Oh! you should not have _thrown_ M.
Lullier) "into the Prefecture of Police," (the ex-Prefecture, if you
please), "and put in solitary confinement at the very moment when Paris
was in want of men of action and military experience." Oh, fie! men of
the Commune, you had at your disposal a man of action--who does not know
the noble actions of Citizen Lullier? A man of military experience--who
does not know what profound experience M. Lullier has acquired in his
numerous campaigns--and yet you put him, or rather throw him, into the
Prefecture! This is bad, very bad. "The Prefecture is transformed into a
state prison, and the most rigorous discipline is maintained." It
appears then that the Communal prison is anything but a fool's paradise.
"However, in spite of everything, I and my secretary managed to make our
escape calmly ..."--the calm of the high-minded--"from a cell where I
was strictly guarded, to pass two court-yards and a dozen or two of
soldiers, to have three doors opened for me while the sentinels
presented arms as I passed ..." What a wonderful escape: the adventures
of Baron Munchausen are nothing to it. What a fine chapter poor old
Dumas might have made of it. The door of the cell is passed under the
very nose of the jailer, who has doubtless been drugged with some
narcotic, of which M. Lullier has learnt the secret during his travels
in the East Indies; the twelve guards in the court-yards are seized one
after another by the throat, thrown on the ground, bound with cords, and
prevented from giving the alarm by twelve gags thrust into their twelve
mouths; the three doors are opened by three enormous false keys, the
work of a member of the Commune, locksmith by trade, who has remained
faithful to the cause of M. Lullier; and last, but not least, the
sentinels, plunged in ecstasy at the sight of the glorious fugitive,
present arms. What a scene for a melodrama! The most interesting figure,
however, in my opinion, is the secretary. I have the greatest respect
for that secretary, who never dreamt one instant of abandoning his
master, and I can see him, while Lullier is accomplishing his miracles,
calmly writing in the mi